Ballad of a Dove
by The Secret SOLDIER
Summary: Zack survived outside Midgar, but Cloud fell in his stead. Tseng has made a move on Aerith, and now with Sephiroth's return and AVALANCHE attacking, Zack's world has fallen apart completely. AU, set after Crisis Core. Tseng/Aerith/Zack
1. Awakening

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 1 - Awakening

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

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Cold. And wet. Soft mud seeping in through his clothes where he lay in contact with the ground. The acrid smell of gunpowder, the nauseating smell of blood and death, hung thickly, as if even the air refused to be washed clean by the rain. Zack had been on enough battlefields to know where he was even without opening his eyes. What was the real surprise, though, was the fact that he was alive to begin with. His memory was a little hazy...

Right now, thinking only made his head hurt worse. He forced his eyes open, blinking up at the gray sky as if it held all the answers. Moving was a bad idea too, it seemed, as pain knifed through his chest with every shaky breath he drew. He guessed several ribs were at least cracked, and his skull and left arm weren't feeling much better.

He closed his eyes again with a sigh, pushing the pain away and instead imagining himself in Aerith's church... His head no longer rested on stone but on her lap; the rain washing the five years of grime off his face was instead her gentle fingertips; the slight murmur of wind was her voice, calling his name, or laughing as she went about her work, or singing to herself when she thought he wasn't around. Aerith. So full of life. He would think of her; she would see him through this day, as her memory had seen him through the last five years. She, and Cloud.

Cloud!

His whole body jolted convulsively as he tried to sit up. Where was Cloud? He rolled onto his side and slowly propped himself upright on his elbows. His field of vision was too narrow to make out much other than walls of rock and pools of mud, but by the amount of blood he saw running into those pools, there'd been a massacre here. One in which he'd had no part. _Oh, Gaia...Cloud..._

Zack rotated his head slowly; his eyes were near-useless from this position close to the ground, but his other senses were as sharp as ever. The scent of blood and gunpowder was strongest to his left, but whatever lay over there was hidden by an outcropping. Time to get moving, then. At his first attempt to stand, he felt something strain deep inside his chest and decided that he'd have to find an alternate means of transportation. Ignoring as best he could the stinging mud seeping into the open wounds on his arms, he dragged himself along the ground, gritting his teeth as he forced his aching body over the stone and sand.

What had happened to him? He could remember the truck ride, and the snipers set up on the roadside, and hauling Cloud out of the bed of the vehicle, and then - nothing.

He finally made it far enough to see the entirety of the battlefield and stopped in shock and horror. Most of the corpses had already dissolved into the Lifestream, but there were enough broken weapons scattered about to have equipped an entire battalion. And the blood...crimson rivers diluted by the rain ran away into the cracks in the ground. But in one direction the red was undiluted, trickling thickly among the rocks. A limp body was stretched on the ground, dark uniform almost blending in, with a broken sword barely clasped in one hand.

Zack's whole body went cold. _No, this can't be!_ Pushing aside all awareness of pain, he lurched to his feet and stumbled forward, falling on his face an arm's-length away from Cloud. He didn't - he _couldn't_ - believe that this was his friend lying here so still. It wasn't possible! Cloud had survived so much, it just couldn't end like this. But Fate was cruel, and there was no denying the reality of the blood pouring out of the blond's many wounds, nor the multitude of bullet holes that perforated his shirt and stomacher.

Zack bent over his friend, vision wavering and hands trembling, utterly lost. He hardly recognized his own hoarse voice. "Cloud...don't leave." He'd lived _with_ this man for the last year, and _beside_ him for four more - he couldn't lose Cloud now! But he didn't know what to do.

"Cloud," he whispered again, leaning forward, hoping against all odds to catch the faintest sound of air being drawn in and out of torn lungs. Zack's chest constricted. This couldn't be happening...! But then -

A hiss of breath through clenched teeth.

The black-haired SOLDIER nearly collapsed with relief. Cloud was alive - they'd make it back to Midgar yet! Then his own jaw tightened as he realized what pain the blond must be in, to have survived all those wounds and still be alive. What he needed was a doctor, and fast.

Unfortunately, Materia was in a short supply; Zack carried none, and the bodies of the dead troops were disintegrating too quickly for searching them to be an option. He glanced up, squinting through both the rain and the pain in his head, and was able to make out a dark smudge on the horizon. Midgar wasn't more than a day's travel away at the most. Once there, hiding would be more difficult, but hopefully a visit to a hospital would not only heal Cloud but wake him from his coma. Then, with both of them awake and active, evading recapture ought to be easier. Getting there in time would be the challenge.

Zack looked down at his injured friend, then glanced over his shoulder at the hilt of the gigantic Buster Sword secured to his back. He frowned, closing his eyes. He doubted that in his present condition he could carry both the sword and Cloud. _Angeal, I know you'll understand...I'll always have my Honor. But I need Cloud, too._

"I promise I'll come back for it," he murmured, disengaging the sword and laying it at the bottom of the rock wall that towered over them.

Without further thought, Zack knelt, bracing his knees on slippery rocks, and lifted Cloud by the shoulders. The infantryman groaned quietly and Zack prayed that he stayed unconscious. The blond was heavier than he looked..._or my strength's been waning_...and it was with effort that the SOLDIER hoisted him over one shoulder. Definitely not the best way to carry a nearly-dead man, but he did what he had to do.

Getting to his feet was a whole other battle. The world rocked and swayed, and Cloud's weight all on one side did nothing to help balance. Finally Zack stood upright, one hand on the rock wall in front of him, the other holding tightly to Cloud as if the blond could do anything to support him. Zack took a deep breath and stepped away from the wall, his movements painfully slow and unsteady. Scratch his earlier idea. It would take the better part of a week to get to Midgar at this speed, and that wasn't even considering the rain and troops and other obstacles.

They'd gained an agonizing twenty feet when sharp SOLDIER ears picked up a sound behind them, coming from where Zack had woken up earlier. Footsteps. A lot of them. _Of course_ there would be reinforcements. He accelerated into a staggering run, well aware of the easy target he was making, and prayed for a miracle.

He could hear the shouts as the troops came into view of him; his body tensed involuntarily, expecting at any moment to hear the rattle of gunfire and feel a hundred bullets ripping through him. But they seemed to be taking their time, and as a pinnacle of rock reared up ahead out of the rain and mist, he allowed himself a brief hope that he might be able to get to shelter before the troops made their move. His chest aching with every jarring step, he'd almost reached a spur that could cover him when he heard a single rifle crack behind him. He threw himself at the ground, and several things happened simultaneously.

Cloud jerked once against his back and Zack felt a sharp exhalation against his arm; accompanying the breath came a searing pain cutting through his left shoulder and he completely lost his grip on the infantryman. Zack pushed himself to hands and knees, already getting his feet under him and gathering up Cloud again when he happened to glance at his friend's face. Blood trickled between pallid lips and blue eyes were half-lidded and unfocussed. Zack realized, with a knife through his heart, that Cloud was gone. In the end, he hadn't been able to save him.

The SOLDIER leapt to his feet with all of his enhanced speed and whirled on the approaching troops, face contorted into a snarl and right hand reaching back for his weapon. But the sword wasn't there for him, and at the sight of the wall of men and weapons bearing relentlessly down on him, he broke. Leaving Cloud dead on the ground, he fled into the twilight, his only thought that he ought to have stood and died. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not with her waiting for him.

"Aerith...I'm coming. Finally." He didn't know how he could face her after this, but he knew he couldn't just die and leave her without a word.

Gunshots echoed after him, sending chips of stone flying as bullets ricocheted overhead, but no more struck him. Even after he was long out of sight of the battlefield, stumbling from weariness and blood loss, the noise continued; he refused to let himself think of what they were doing to Cloud's body, taking out all the anger they must have at losing a whole battalion. _Oh, gods, Cloud - I should have been the one to take on the army and you should be the one walking away free. I'm so sorry..._

He fell to the ground, clenched his bloodied hands in the soft sand of the Wastelands, and screamed to heaven, not caring who heard, "Why? Why him?" His voice broke and he added barely audibly, "Why not me?"

As if in answer, the sky above him opened for a moment, letting a single ray of sunlight touch his face in a caress; then the storm returned, breaking loose and pouring a cold, drenching rain on the SOLDIER weeping for his friend amidst the thunder.

At last he raised his head as the storm abated; the sky was still dark, but now with the dusk rather than with clouds. The rain had helped him: it washed away his trail, and soothed the wounds on his head and shoulder, making the pain more bearable. But the pain inside was all he felt at the moment. He'd failed to save one of the few things he loved. There was now only one person left to him.

Aerith. His thoughts ultimately, as always, led him back to her. It had been five years since he'd last seen her, a month or so since the last Angeal Copy had delivered the letter she'd sent who-knew how long ago. A lot could happen in a month. A lot could happen in a matter of seconds. He didn't know what she was doing now, or even if she was still living where he'd left her, or if she'd found someone new, or even if she was still alive.

She was the one treasure left him, and he wasn't about to let anything happen to her, even if it cost him his life. He looked back the way he'd come and saluted slowly, muttering an oath to himself - and Cloud - that he would have vengeance yet. But not today. With a grim determination, he turned his face to the city on the dimming horizon and set off toward it, not looking back again.

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**A/N:** This is an incredibly overused way to begin a fic, but it's the only way I could think of. Updates will be sporadic, but I _do_ have a plot all planned out - and I've been told I write good plot, so the story is worth sticking around to see!

And I'll give a bit of a spoiler to those who otherwise might leave this fic because Cloud is dead: he's _not _dead. But it will be a while before he shows up again.

Thanks for reading!

(P.S. The more people show interest in this story, the more likely I am to update regularly. Just sayin'.)

(P.P.S. I would like to extend a huge THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed/favorited/read my first story, _Comfort for the Comfortless_. You guys have encouraged me enough to want to write more for this account!)


	2. Stranger

**A/N: **Okay, incredibly short chapter here, but I'm too impatient to make it any longer. Besides, each chapter is following a different character around, and where I broke this one off is where the next one will pick up, from Zack's point-of-view.

Enjoy the story (and don't forget to review, pretty please)!

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Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 2 - Stranger

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

On any ordinary day, Aerith would have been humming as she went about her work. Days like this, the dawn after a rain, with the sun just beginning to peep through the hole in the roof and the mists outside obscuring the squalor and filth of the slums, were her favorite. Often on these sorts of mornings she would set aside her chores and postpone the day for an hour or so while she sat by the remains of the old altar and thought. She thought a lot about the world, and life outside the Plate's permanent shadow, and where _he_ might be now and why he'd never responded to any of her calls and letters.

_Perhaps it's for the best_, she would sometimes think. _Maybe he never really loved me. Maybe it's good that I've learned how to move on. But...I never have moved on._ On the days she thought like that, she wouldn't sit by the altar for the whole hour. She would wipe a hand roughly across her face and stand up and start filling the flower cart for that day's sales, and she would try her hardest to not think about the black-haired, bright-eyed man who had stolen her heart and then apparently forgotten.

Today, though, there was no trace of a routine. The flower wagon, still filled with the wilted remains from the day before, was parked haphazardly against a wall. Dead flowers were a thing Aerith didn't tolerate in her presence, but for now the cart went unnoticed. Her pink dress was just slightly torn, the top button missing and one sleeve hopelessly wrinkled and the back of it streaked with grass-stain. Her hair was tangled, twisted into a messy braid that hung loose and off-center down her back. But most surprising was the state of the flowers, her second-most prized possession. They were trampled and crushed, in one area even matted flat in a tangle of stems and leaves and fallen petals.

Aerith sighed as she worked at straightening the lilies, trying to get them to stand on their own, her face falling as more petals drifted to the ground with every flower she touched. She moved slowly, without energy, looking around listlessly at the damage and then sinking to her knees in the middle of the blooms.

Maybe today was the day to move on. Maybe it was a sign... Maybe there was a reason she'd lost the ribbon _he_'d given her and she couldn't find it again. Today would begin the rest of her life. She'd be a new person and not look back. But how could she not look back when the only happiness she'd ever known was lost somewhere in the past? Her joy was wrapped up in _his_ presence and even if she lived a thousand years she'd never be able to separate the two.

Without _him_, life was dull, gray and tasteless...no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that she could make her own happiness.

She looked up suddenly at a sound from the back of the church. One of the double doors had been left ajar this morning - no telling what animal or slum-dweller or criminal could have come in.

Gathering her dress up about her knees, she darted quickly to one of the stone pillars to the left of the main aisle and slipped between it and the wall, crouching there in the shadows with only her brilliant green eyes visible. Her heart jumped into her throat as heavy footsteps resounded coming down the aisle, and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound as a tall, stooped, grime-covered man shuffled into view, heading straight as an arrow for her flowers. She shrank farther back and wondered if she could outrun him if she made a break for outside.

He turned halfway toward her and she muffled a squeak, terrified that he would see her and come after her. Her hand clutched a broken piece of board so tightly that splinters bit into her palm. There was very little chance of her being able to stand up to a slum-dweller, even one in as poor shape as this one appeared to be; she prayed to the Planet that the stranger would just leave. She didn't know what else she could do, otherwise.

It was with a sinking feeling that she watched the man fall heavily to his knees at the edge of the flower bed - he showed no inclination toward leaving anytime soon, and Aerith's legs were already beginning to go numb from her cramped position. But then he reached out and gently cupped a white bloom in his hand. His fingers curled around it, and Aerith's eyes narrowed at how _dare_ he pick one of her flowers...but then, just as slowly, he released it.

She was now totally confused; if she hadn't been warned against strangers all her life, maybe she would have gone up to him - but she didn't.

With effort, the man stood back up, shoulders hunched forward and more weight on one foot than the other, and looked around as if in a daze. In the light from the roof, the dark smears on his face that Aerith had at first assumed to be dirt turned reddish-brown, the color of blood. She shut her eyes. Why this church? Why her? Why _today_?

She dropped the board to cover her face with both hands, to block out the sight of the stranger's hideous dirt and wounds and blood, but looked up again quickly at a loud thud. The man had fallen face-first into the carefully-tended flower bed and was lying there, unmoving. Aerith stood up in indignation. How dare he, after the work she'd just put into that?

After several minutes of timidly waiting in the shadows, she eventually crept out, the piece of wood back in her hand, and approached the man. Good sense told her to go call the Street Security and have this vagrant removed, but for once she chose the more dangerous path and decided to investigate by herself. As he made no further movement, her confidence grew as she approached him. By the time she was next to him, she was brazen enough to use the bit of board - she didn't want to dirty her hands - as leverage against his shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

His head lolled unconsciously. Up close, his face was even dirtier than it had looked from a distance, but something caused Aerith to look closer. His eyes were closed, his black hair was matted, and he downright _stank_, but there was something...familiar about him?

Her mind threatened to shut down, and she wondered if it was too late now to turn and run and pretend she'd never seen him. There was no way this was happening now. No way! It was all too great a coincidence. This was all a dream.

Hand moving by itself, she reached up to his face, to the sharp angle of his jaw. _You fool_, she chid herself. _What are you hoping for?_ But she couldn't stop now. She _had_ to know. She just wasn't sure of what she was hoping the answer would be; it would break her heart either way. Biting her tongue, she let her thumb slip over his cheek, wiping a clean trail through the grime, feeling for - _oh, Gaia!_

Both hands flew to her own face and she stumbled back several feet, falling hard in the process, her stare never leaving his face. She wouldn't have been half so scared if the sky had suddenly split open and fallen on her.

_He's here...now...and I'm - no!_

_I'm..._

_Dear gods, help me. I'm not his anymore._


	3. If Tomorrow Never Comes

**A/N: **Hehe, super long chapter here. I can't wait for the next one! (But just be forewarned, from Ch. 4 onwards the rating will go up, for reasons that...well, you'll see when you read this chapter!)

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Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 3 - If Tomorrow Never Comes

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

This time he was sure he was dead. The last thing he remembered was falling into blackness. Had something hit him? Yes, Angeal had just cast that spell... Wait. Was that what had happened? Or - He couldn't think. All he knew was that those rafters looked familiar, as did that gaping hole in the ceiling. Also familiar was the scent of flowers. And the angel's face bending over him.

He knew he'd done this before. "Heaven?" he muttered groggily, the pain in his head certainly not helping his thinking processes any.

The angel frowned. "No." She was about to say more, but looked away hurriedly, anywhere but at him. Zack knew she ought to introduce herself, then point to the ceiling and say _You fell from the sky. Scared me. _That's how it was supposed to be, but something was wrong this time. For one thing, he was in considerably more pain than he'd been in the first time. And his best friend was dead.

"This can't be Heaven. 'Cause if it was, Cloud would be here." He wasn't sure he'd meant to say that aloud.

Emerald eyes locked on him. Zack forced his own eyes to focus on her face, on that face he never thought he'd see again.

"Aerith," he whispered, as if she was a gossamer that would dissolve in the faintest wind. She didn't speak, and he wasn't sure that this wasn't all a dream.

She knelt by him, staying a good arm's-reach away, and stared out over her flower bed.

Despite everything, he had to find something to say, to break the spell, but the only things that came to mind when she was around all sounded stupid. He tried one anyway. "I do exist, don't I?" That earned him a brief glance; he was about to try another one when he processed what he'd seen in that instant. "Why are you crying?" He was on his knees beside her in an instant. He would have put an arm around her, but at the last minute remembered the blood and dirt that coated him and instead opted for simply leaning his body closer to her. What he wouldn't give for an embrace from her right now!

"Please, tell me," he said, voice hoarse. "I want to help."

Aerith turned to face him, mouth pressed into a firm line and eyes searching his face, as if trying to ascertain or deny that it really was him, after all these years, in front of her. Then her lip started quivering, and two tears slid from her eyes, and in an instant she was in his arms, wrapping herself tighter and tighter about his neck as if she would never let go, and sobbing the whole while.

Zack pushed past the pain in his shoulder as he returned the embrace, careful that in his strength he didn't press her too tightly. He'd kept himself alive for five years on the promise of this moment - he was going to make sure that it lived up to all his expectations. They didn't move for many long minutes, Aerith trying to compose herself enough to give him the welcome he deserved, and Zack unashamedly letting tears pour down his face. He sighed, burying his face in her sweet-scented hair - _she smells just like her flowers_ - and tried to hold her even closer, but she fought him and pulled away.

She sat back and wiped her eyes, once again avoiding his gaze. "Z-Zack," she hiccuped, staring at where his hand rested helplessly on the floor, watching as it clenched into a fist then relaxed again.

"Aerith -" _I love you_ "- tell me you hadn't forgotten me."

Green eyes looked accusingly, unflinchingly, into his. "You're the one who forgot." Her voice was harsh, but so close to breaking.

"No, Aerith," he whispered, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "I never forgot."

She wanted to be angry at him; then she could push away other emotions and not think about what went wrong. _What I _did_ wrong. This is all my fault. This distance between us, when all I want to do is hold him and die in his arms._ But anger wouldn't come, couldn't come, not when she was looking at his battered and bruised face, at his defeated posture when _she_ ought to be the guilty one begging for forgiveness.

"I did." Somehow she managed to choke the words out past the death-grip of fear on her throat.

A long silence followed. She couldn't find the courage to look at him, even though his silence was killing her heart and stopping her breath.

Finally there was a noise, the last thing she would have expected in a situation like this - but maybe not all that surprising, considering it was Zack, after all. Five years hadn't changed him any, at least not in this regard. He laughed. Not as heartily as he once might have, but he was laughing nonetheless.

"You make an absolutely terrible liar, you know it?"

Aerith took a deep breath, glanced up. His smiling face was not a foot from hers, blocking out all other thoughts. _Perhaps...it's best if he simply never knows._

The temptation was too great, and she did what she'd always wanted to do but had never had the courage for. Leaning forward, eyes lost in his gaze, she pressed her lips to Zack's. He stayed there for a moment, long enough for the action to be called a kiss but no longer, then pulled back, smiling embarrassedly. Aerith looked insulted, but he explained quickly, "I'm not very clean at the moment. I don't want to get you dirty too. I'll make it up to you after I find a shower..."

She silenced him by kissing him again. Yes, there was sand and grit on his mouth, and his lips were dry and cracked, and she could taste blood on him and smell sweat and even more blood - but it was Zack. Nothing else mattered. _Nothing_ else. She needed to forget last night, and right now seemed a good time to start.

Zack moaned as she pushed against him harder, settling herself in his lap as her hands wove up into his hair, combing her fingers through the matted tangles and pulling him closer. His hands moved over her body, stroking her back, running lightly down her sides, leaving behind dark smudges on the pink fabric but neither of them noticed or cared. Aerith opened her mouth slightly, licking his lips clean, wanting the most from this moment. As she couldn't get him to reply in kind, she tugged at his hair in frustration, but stopped abruptly at his groan of pain.

She pulled away, breathing hard. "Sorry," she said contritely. "I didn't mean to - What's wrong?"

Zack had closed his eyes and leaned over so his head was resting on her shoulder; he, too, was breathing rapidly, but shallowly, and Aerith realized that under the coating of dirt, his face was pale. One hand on his shoulder, she pushed him back enough to slip her other hand against his forehead, and was dismayed to find him hot to the touch.

He whimpered quietly in pain, and she drew her hands away; the one that had been on his shoulder came back sticky and dark red. She resisted the nausea and forced herself to touch him again, this time on his upper arm. He didn't sit up, but one hand found hers and squeezed it.

"I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

But his fibbing skills weren't any better than Aerith's, and she gently but firmly pushed him back, helping him slowly until he was lying among the lilies. He tried to force his way back up, but his strength had faded and even Aerith was able to keep him down with little difficulty. Zack finally gave in and lay still when she leaned over him, hair falling around them like a curtain to block out the rest of the world, and kissed him again. All he wanted to do was lie there forever like that, but all too soon Aerith rose to her feet and stepped away.

"You stay right there. I'm going to go get my materia; I'll be right back."

He could tell from her tone that she meant what she said - her voice was calm, authoritative, in control. His girl had matured so much without him. She slipped away into the misty shadows, disappearing like a phantom, leaving Zack alone to count the minutes until she returned.

Aerith didn't take her time - she no longer questioned what she should think - but went straight to what had once been velvet-curtained confessionals and rummaged among her few belonging stashed there. Pushing aside some blankets and a carefully-mended coat she found her materia sack and dumped its precious contents into her lap. There were few enough spheres, the handful of high-level healing materia handed down from her mother and several more that Aerith herself had found need to purchase. Selecting a Cura, she hurriedly swept the rest back into the bag and returned to the main aisle of the church.

She glanced quickly toward the flower bed, but Zack was still lying where she had left him and couldn't be seen from where she stood. Turning, she darted to the front doors and heaved them shut, barring them with a piece of rotting wood - it wouldn't hold against much, but it made her feel better. From there she hurried to the two side doors, one on each side of the sanctum, and blocked them as well. Aerith realized how much time this had taken, and practically ran back to Zack, needing to reassure herself that he was still there, and dropped to her knees at his side. His eyes were closed, body limp, chest not mov- He inhaled deeply. She smiled, reaching down to touch his sleeping face.

Everything would be all right.

oooOoOooo

Zack didn't know how much longer later he awoke, but it was to the pleasant realization that neither his head nor shoulder - nor the rest of his body, for that matter - hurt anymore. He lay still for a long minute, eyes closed, basking in a comfortable feeling he hadn't experience since fleeing the Midgar Mansion a year ago. It took his mind a moment more to process another feeling, almost as alien to him as comfort. A soft warm body was pressed against his, nestled up to his side, his right arm resting on a bosom that rose and fell gently with the rhythm of sleep.

He smiled and relaxed back among the lilies. All wasn't right in the world, but it was a heck of a lot farther in the right direction than it had been in a long time. Cloud's death flashed through his mind, reminding him that no strength, enhanced or otherwise, could protect the things he loved; he pushed the thought away, hoping that Cloud would understand, telling himself that if he only had today, he might as well make the most of it. Promises would be kept...later.

Now, he rolled onto his side so he could gaze down at Aerith asleep next to him. For the first time he noticed the torn dress, the smudges on her face and clothes, the lines of worry about her eyes - and wrongly believed that he was the cause. He needed to be more gentle with her; she was more worried about his own wellbeing than he himself was, and he berated himself for causing her so much stress. _But there's got to be a way to make it up to her, right?_

She shifted beside him, momentarily snuggling deeper against him, then coming wide awake with a start. Sitting up quickly, she glanced about in a panic until she saw him and relaxed again, leaning into his embrace as he put his arms about her.

"I thought you were gone again," she murmured against his shoulder.

"Never again," he promised. "Never."

They stayed that way until Zack became aware of a rumbling in his stomach, and remembered that he'd had nothing to eat in - how many days? Food had been a scarcity while on the run, and with Cloud not needing any sustenance, Zack had often neglected himself in favor of gaining a few more miles on their pursuers. He knew it would catch up with him, and of course it would choose just the wrong moment to make itself known.

He was going to apologize, when Aerith sat up. "I completely forgot," she said, getting up and heading to the nearest pew. "I knew you would be hungry but I didn't want to wake you." She returned with a small basket of food; taking the napkin off the top, she spread it out and began laying out a picnic. "Not much, I know, but it was all that could be gotten on short notice."

Zack paused with a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. "Where'd you get this?" _Is she on good terms with someone else? I won't grudge her friends, but if there's someone else in her life... Don't be stupid. She said she loves you; she would never lie._

She smiled at him, then, as if seeing right through him, answered gently, "No need to be jealous. Remember that boy whose wallet you retrieved years ago? You probably don't, but he's been my friend since then. He stopped by earlier while you were asleep and wanted to buy some flowers for his girlfriend; instead of gil, I told him to bring a lunch and a change of clothes for you. They're folded over there." She waved toward another pew.

But Zack had set aside the food completely and was staring at her with a serious expression. "You shouldn't have told him I was here. I've been running from Shinra, and if they find me, they'll..." He let the sentence hang because he didn't want to think of what they _would_ do to him - and Aerith - if they ever caught him.

She shook her head vehemently. "I know enough for that, Zack. I've been watched all my life, too." _Now more than ever._ "I told him I was going to sew up something new out of them. He doesn't suspect a thing, and besides, he would never betray me."

_Sometimes the ones you trust the most are the most merciless traitors_, Zack thought.

Seeing him frown, Aerith leaned forward. "Is the food okay? I can try to find something else -"

"No, it's fine." He paused, a grin creeping over his face. "But I can't eat without a beautiful girl sitting beside me."

"Oh, you!" But, he noted, she snuggled next to him anyway.

The meal didn't take long, and soon Zack was on his feet again, being dragged around by an over-eager Aerith who wanted to show him every new stick and stone in her church, or so it seemed. He didn't mind at all; he generally ignored whatever she was talking about or showing him, and contented himself with being able to stare at her while she was too busy to notice. Her face had sharpened somewhat, losing its childlike roundness but keeping all of its innocence and compassion. Her hair had lightened, now closer to the color of honey. She'd grown an inch or two, but had stayed slender and light-footed. And her body - well, Zack smiled to see that her curves were filling out, her shape becoming more defined, more womanly.

She caught him looking at her and blushed.

"Something the matter?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but really all he wanted was to run his hands over her body, to rip off her dress, to crush those perfect lips in a kiss that never ended... He bit his tongue and smiled forcedly.

"Um, no, I guess." She turned back to the wagon she'd been showing him and tried to mask her feelings. Her heart rate had increased dramatically, seeing him staring at her like that, and she could feel the flush still in her cheeks. "If you want to now, I can show you a room where you can stay, and you can change clothes if you need to, or get some sleep." She hurried off toward the altar, to the door to the left of the sanctum, and entered the windowless sacristy.

Zack stayed right behind her the whole way, hands clenched in his pockets to keep himself from touching her. _She's still new to this,_ he kept reminding himself. _She's probably not even ready yet for something like that - for anything closer than a kiss._

He stopped in the doorway, glancing over the room no larger than a prison cell. A dilapidated cot - the frame falling apart but the mattress neatly mended and at least smelling clean - was along one wall; next to it was a small table, a short stool...and that was it.

"At least it's better than my last accommodations," he commented, seeing from the way she looked at the room that it was killing Aerith to make him stay in such a place.

"It's not much," she began, but Zack cut off the inevitable stream of apologies.

"I'd rather be here with you than living in a castle without."

That got a smile from her, and she nodded agreement. "So, anyway, I'll go get your new clothes" - she darted off and was back just as quickly, holding some brown fabric - "and I guess I'll leave you to get settled in."

She set the clothes on the stool and looked around once more as if hoping to find another reason to hang around, but failing that she looked up at Zack. "So...need anything else?"

He couldn't think of a subtle way to say it, and he wasn't sure she'd understand if he did succeed in being subtle. "Actually, yes." Might as well go for broke. He took a deep breath. "I was hoping for a good, long kiss."

Without hesitation, Aerith leaned forward and pressed their mouths together; Zack was surprised when on her own initiative she opened her mouth, but he didn't question as his eyes drifted shut and his tongue slipped between her lips and he shared his first kiss with the girl he loved.

But he had been right in his thinking before, for as soon as he drew away for air, Aerith stepped back, hands shyly behind her back, and she seemed content to go no farther. Sighing, Zack looked down at himself, crusted with blood and dirt, and decided that looking like that wasn't the best way to win a girl over. He grinned to himself as he started unbuckling his belt, watching Aerith out of the corner of his eye for her reaction. She stared at him for the first moment, but then became embarrassed and started edging out of the room, keeping her eyes on the floor.

"Hey, could you pass me that shirt?" he asked, drawing her eyes up to his face.

She turned red at the realization that he'd discarded his uniform sweater and was naked from the waist up, and she hurriedly looked away and fumbled through the clean clothes.

"Here," she muttered, handing it to him but keeping her gaze averted. But not completely, he was thrilled to see, for he kept catching glimpses of green watching him every time she thought he wasn't looking. "Maybe I'd better go."

Instead of taking the shirt she held out to him, he grasped her wrist and pulled her to him.

"Don't leave, not yet. Please. Just sit with me a minute."

So they sat down together on the bed, Aerith eventually working up the courage to wrap her arms around his bare torso, and he let his hand wander through her hair and felt her heartbeat against his skin.

Life was good. Not perfect - no, a long way from perfect - but good nonetheless.


	4. Unsavory Objective

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 4 - Unsavory Objective

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Tseng had hardly stepped through the glass double-doors into the Shinra Tower's ground floor lobby when a company messenger dashed up to him, breathing hard.

"Sir! The two Nibelheim specimens were apprehended in the Wastes. One was reported killed, but one escaped and ran off toward Midgar. The President wants you to have all the Turks on high alert until the specimen is found."

"Any idea which one was killed?"

"No, sir. They said he was wearing a black SOLDIER uniform, though..."

"Very well." Tseng turned away, conflicting emotions warring in his mind. The SOLDIER was dead. Zack was dead. That was unfortunate, but better than the alternative. His mind turned to Aerith - she had a right to know. Better to hear it from him than someone else. He pulled out his PHS and dialed Elena, who functioned as a secretary for the senior Turks. "Hello? Elena? Yes. I need you to get everyone together. There'll be a reassignment meeting in half an hour." He hung up, ignoring her questions as to what was going on.

Setting his watch for twenty minutes - he wasn't going to be late to his own meeting - he turned and quickly left the building, heading toward the company garage.

The good thing about driving a Shinra vehicle was that speed limits could be safely ignored if one was an experienced driver. No Security official would dare pull him over, and other drivers were generally pretty good about getting out of the way of a speeding big black truck. It took Tseng less than five minutes to arrive below the Plate at the Sector 5 church.

Hoping Aerith would still be there, he hurried up the front steps and heaved on the handle...and frowned. The door didn't budge. He experimentally pushed on it, only to hear a faint rattle, and came to the conclusion that it was barred from the inside. A lifetime of dealing with bad situations afforded him images of worst-case scenarios: hostage situations, murder, torture. He whipped around a corner, scanning the side of the church for another entrance. There wasn't one, but the ridged buttresses looked easy to climb.

Without further thought, only taking the time to loosen his gun in its holster at his right hip, Tseng began climbing, swiftly and surely. Upon reaching the roof, he moved slower, taking care where he stepped both to be quieter and to minimize the risk of falling through the rotten timbers. He walked along the ridgepole until he neared the back of the church, where the hole gaped wide, providing an easy view inside.

He lay flat and inched forward, hand on his gun, until he could just see over the edge and into the church. What he saw nearly made him growl aloud, and his finger twitched on the trigger. Damn that messenger for a fool - damn the infantry for giving misinformation! The SOLDIER wasn't dead at all. No, far from it. Instead, he was here, in Aerith's church, with his arm around Tseng's girl. Like he had a right to hold her so close to him. Like he had a right to be with her at all. The one-time SOLDIER was a monster.

Tseng felt sorry for him, he truly did, but five years ago when he'd helped Hojo carry Zack into the Mansion, he'd realized that there could never be an escape. Whatever Hojo had done to him in there - he couldn't be allowed free after that. Tseng had fought enough Genesis copies, enough monsters with Angeal's face, that he knew that genetic experimentation was a one-way street. The most Zack could hope for now was a quick, painless death.

At the hands of the leader of the Turks.

He brought the revolver up, sighting carefully down its short barrel into the head of raven spikes far below. It would take precision at this distance, but he was sure of his accuracy; it would be a clean kill. Aerith need never know who did it.

Tseng took a deep breath, closing his eyes, his grip tightening on the gun. Why couldn't he just pull the trigger? This man had been his friend - _had_ been his friend. He still was. But if Shinra caught up to Zack, if they captured him again, they would put him in one of those damned mako containers and tear him to pieces from the inside out until he begged for the death they withheld. Tseng had seen Angeal after the mutations had started; he'd heard how the SOLDIER had forced Zack to kill him. The Turk didn't want to see Zack come to that himself. It would be far more merciful to...

He opened his eyes again, ready to take the shot. But when he peered down, the two had moved; Aerith's head now rested against Zack's as she embraced him, the sight making Tseng's aim waver. The Turk clenched his teeth, almost snarling down at them, and willed them to separate. Did Aerith not know the danger she was in by being with Zack? No, of course not. Tseng had kept from her all knowledge of what had been done to the SOLDIER, so...all she saw was the man she loved returned from nowhere. That was the one thing Tseng could never allow.

But he couldn't get a clear shot, and next thing he knew, Aerith was dragging Zack out of his line-of-sight. He waited for them to reappear, well aware that time was ticking away. Screw the meeting.

Finally the two came into view, but only for a moment; Zack was trailing Aerith, his hands in his pockets but following so closely his body almost touched her, as the flower girl led him past the altar and into the sacristy. Tseng's eyes narrowed and he barely resisted the urge to jump down onto the rafters and from there into the church. Aerith loved Zack, she spoke about him often, and many times she'd cried on Tseng's shoulder for her SOLDIER, and Tseng was willing to give her a few minutes of grace with her love. But not this!

The door to the sacristy swung shut.

Standing up, the Turk had one leg over the edge of the hole when his watch started beeping. He stopped, torn. He loved Aerith too much to let another man to touch her, but he also loved her too much to risk her hate. For what would happen if Aerith saw him kill Zack right in front of her? Swearing, Tseng turned and shimmied down the nearest pillar and headed grimly back to his truck. If Shinra learned of this, they'd send someone more capable than a single Turk for dealing with a rogue SOLDIER - which meant that Tseng needn't be involved. Aerith would never know.

He drove slowly until he was several streets away, then fiercely gunned the engine and roared off toward the highway and the city above the Plate.

* * *

Upon arriving at the Tower, Tseng stopped by momentarily on the Turk floor, long enough to tell them that he had a meeting with the department heads and he'd be back soon, then he hurried on to the upper stories. As he'd requested, Heidegger, Scarlet, the President, and the Vice President were assembled in the 66th floor briefing room when he entered.

"I hope this is important, Turk," Rufus said, hardly glancing up as Tseng stood before them.

"I've found the surviving Nibelheim specimen."

The room couldn't have been quieter if he'd cast Silence.

Finally Scarlet smiled, a cold expression. "Where?"

"The Sector 5 slums; the church, to be exact."

"Forgive my memory," the President said, "but isn't that where you said the Cetra lives?"

Tseng nodded. "He's with her now, sir. I felt it wisest not to attempt to arrest him singlehanded. However, the army should quite easily -"

The President cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Take however many Turks you deem necessary. I want the target brought to the Tower immediately. And make very sure that the Cetra isn't harmed in any way."

"Wait." Rufus stood up, facing Tseng. "You left the target alone with the Cetra - not a safe combination. We can't have the Cetra compromised, and we certainly can't allow a monster to be born freely from that union. Would it not be best-" he glanced at his father "-to bring her here as well?"

President Shinra nodded agreement. "The closer the Cetra is to us, the closer we are to the Promised Land," he murmured. "Tseng, you have your orders. Go."

The Turk bowed stiffly and left, inwardly fuming. All this, and he was being sent _back_ there?

He strode into the Turk-floor briefing room and snapped, "Reno! Rude! Get ready for a trip below the Plate. Elena, I want you to tail us and be prepared to call in reinforcements if needed. Cissnei -" He paused. "Stay here in case Shinra needs you."

"But, sir -"

"Let's go." Tseng left as abruptly as he'd come. Reno offered Cissnei a one-shouldered shrug as he followed their leader out, and Rude silently followed them both. Elena, more confused than ever, hurriedly grabbed her jacket and darted after them.

Once they were out of the Tower and in Tseng's truck tearing back down to the slums, Reno looked over at his boss. "You goin' to tell us what this is all about? Or is it a big surprise, yo?"

Tseng didn't glance from the road ahead, nor did he shift from his position hunched over the wheel, gripping it with a knuckle-whitening intensity. "We're to kill SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair, and to capture the Cetra, Aerith Gainsborough, and bring her to Shinra. Good enough for you?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Reno leaned back in his seat, for once at a loss for words. This was more than a routine mission if his boss was so worked up about it. Sure, Reno himself had been acquaintances with the target, but only on a semi-professional level. Not enough to jeopardize their objective. He glanced at Rude, but his coworker was looking out the window and ignoring him.

"So...this chick, Aerith. She pretty, yo?"

Tseng growled.

"She's an experiment waiting to happen, Reno. She's not a she - she's an 'it', a target. An objective. Nothing more."

Reno shut up for the rest of the ride.

* * *

**A/N: **Just so you all know, I'm working without a beta on this story, so lemme know if there are any errors (spelling, grammar, sentence structure, or discrepancies in the story itself). I don't think there are many errors, but I'd like my stories to be the best they can be.

Hope you enjoy!


	5. A Little Piece of Heaven

**A/N: **Mild lemon warning for this chapter. Rating has been revised to M. Caveat lector.

A huge THANK YOU goes to **Zana Zira** and **HazzaTL3**, staunch supporters of this story. Your encouragement keeps me going!

* * *

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 5 - A Little Piece of Heaven

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Zack wanted to go back among the flowers. Aerith was vehement that that was the one thing they couldn't do. She clung to him, pulling him back with her flyweight strength, and repeated that it was too dangerous. He laughed and asked how anyone could see through locked doors, but she shook her head, braced herself in the doorway, and kissed him again and again. It didn't take him long to give in and retreat, letting her push him back toward the bed step by step.

Eventually the low bedframe hit the back of his knees, and Zack willingly sank down onto the mattress, pulling Aerith with him. She didn't say a word as he rolled them over, his chest hovering above hers, and he let his lips roam over her face and neck. One of his hands found the front of her dress, found the top button missing, and paused a moment. He pulled away from her mouth, his eyes troubled and questioning, but she quickly distracted him, running her hands down his sides to his belt.

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning forward for another kiss, and unbuttoned the rest of her dress without another thought. Aerith slid the belt from his waist; her soft hands made short work of his pants, and in another few moments they were skin-to-skin against each other, panting and sighing each other's name, breathing in the moment as if it wouldn't last.

Which, Aerith realized, it wouldn't. Nothing lasted.

Zack tasted sweet, like freedom, like fresh air, like life itself, and Aerith opened her mouth willingly to him. It was so unlike last night, with the cloying scent of broken flowers, the passionate murmurs of love, the hands touching where no one had touched before, the black-suited figure leaning over her...the Turk kissing her...Tseng...no!

She shoved Zack back suddenly, her forcefulness startling him. She held his face in her hands, looked into those deep blue eyes hovering above her, so full of love and concern, and the guilt bit deeply into her soul.

"Oh, Zack - how can you love me?" she sobbed, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and pulling him to her quickly so he wouldn't see her tears.

"How can I not?" he whispered in her ear, nuzzling against her cheek. _What's going on?_ "How could anyone not?" He kissed the salty droplet from the corner of her eye. "I kept myself alive for five years on the hope of seeing you again - do you seriously think that I could _not_ love you now?"

Aerith claimed his mouth again, silencing anything else he may have said, and moved her body under him. He closed his eyes and sighed at the contact, finally giving in to her. This was something he'd always wanted to do, from the very first day he'd met her; this was his secret dream, after his vain wish to become a hero. In love with the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, here in her arms, the first one to touch her, to show her the ecstasy of love...

Zack had always thought of Aerith as pure, untouched, naive. His angel couldn't be anything but. He'd met her when she was only fifteen, and he'd talked to her daily until she was seventeen. Yes, it had been years since then, but...he'd always believed she loved him above anyone else. It wasn't like she had that many friends, anyway. But now - now he knew that it was an illusion. She'd loved someone before him. She was no virgin.

He bit his lip at the realization, but ended up accidentally biting hers instead.

She whimpered and opened her eyes, brilliant green so close that her lashes brushed his cheek.

_It's been five years. That's a lot to ask._

_She could have told me!_

_It's in the past, clearly; she loves me now._

_Yes, but how much is still illusion? My girl has learned deception - with my life on the line, can I trust even her?_

His thoughts warred in his mind; Aerith, breathing heavily underneath him, her body tightening around his, was doing nothing to help him think clearly.

_So what if I can't trust her? I wouldn't be doing a thing differently!_

While Zack's thoughts were racing miles away, Aerith had noticed that he was distracted; involuntarily, her mind reverted to the previous night. She couldn't help comparing the two: Zack, holding her close, but murmuring half to himself, his face pressed into her hair but his movements slow and uncoordinated; Tseng, sure and steady, almost arrogant in his abilities, and so in love, his gaze so intent on her body that she'd almost wanted to run away and hide...

What was she doing, comparing the two of them? She might as well compare the Wastes and her church, a picture and the real thing. What she'd done for Tseng... Did she love him? She guessed she might, but only with a spark. It wasn't the same as the way she loved Zack, with her heart and whole being; it was more pity, the sympathy for seeing him yearn after something unobtainable - something she'd had the power to grant. Last night was for Tseng's pleasure. Today was for hers.

She surrendered completely to her SOLDIER, letting Zack do whatever he wanted with her body, feeding him encouragement whenever he stopped. Maybe he feared his own strength; she certainly didn't. She wanted him to overpower her, to prove his strength, to let her know that it was safe to lie defenseless in his very capable arms and that nothing could harm her now.

And so he did, keeping his touch light but letting his body rest against hers, letting her feel every ripple of muscle, every ounce of the superhuman power at his command.

Their hands ran over every inch of each other's body; the small room was loud with their pants and gasps and the quiet moans of their names, and for just a while, the church sheltered a little piece of heaven for the two lovers.

When Aerith finally came undone, Zack came with her, almost crushing her against his chest in his locked embrace. They fell back on the bed, lying side-by-side, Zack nearly falling off the edge of the narrow cot and Aerith pinned between him and the wall on the other side...not that that mattered any.

She gave a sleepy smile and rolled onto his chest, planting soft sweet kisses at the corners of his mouth.

"Be careful or you'll fall off," he smiled, meanwhile wrapping an arm about her waist to make sure it didn't happen.

"I trust you to catch me," she murmured back, leaning more of her weight on him so she could kiss up past the scar on his cheek. Zack teetered precariously on the edge, but as the floor didn't look very inviting, he shifted around so he was lying on his side with his back braced against the wall and Aerith pulled snugly into his lap. She nestled against him, her back to his broad chest, and he rested his chin in her hair.

He breathed in the scent of flowers, but when he opened his eyes, something was wrong.

"You lost the ribbon I gave you." He didn't mean for it to sound so accusing.

Aerith flinched slightly.

_How could I ever think he could forget me - he remembers every little thing!_

She half-smiled, then realized she didn't have an answer for him.

"I...lost it."

Even after five years, she could imagine the frown that must be on his face now. Not that he was truly upset, but still - how could she herself have lost it? The one thing that reminded her of him? Aerith's mind raced. Where was the last place she'd had it? Oh, yes, last night...right before Tseng had come. It must have fallen off, must still be among the flowers somewhere. Funny how she hadn't seen it this morning while she'd tidied up. But then again, she hadn't exactly been the most observant at that time...

"You _lost_ it?" Zack repeated incredulously.

"I'll find it again. I know just where I left it."

"Okay." He was back to all smiles and tiny kisses, and his hand moved up her bare chest. "I guess all's right with the world." Not that he believed it himself, but it felt good to be able to say so - and to have someone respond. A year of one-sided conversations did nothing for a person's social abilities. Any answer was a blessing.

Even if it was in the negative.

Against him, Aerith had frozen. "Shh! There's someone at the doors!"


	6. Breaking Point

**A/N:** Strong language in this chapter. Also, a little bit of blood and violence. Nothing terribly graphic, and no one dies, but...I thought I'd warn you...

* * *

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 6 - Breaking Point

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Reno rapped his EMR against the door again and quickly stepped to the side, anticipating a blast of gunfire to come pouring through the flimsy wood at any moment. None came, and he glanced over at Rude and raised an eyebrow. "Are we sure they're even here?"

"The Director seems sure." Rude motioned with his chin toward where Tseng, gun in hand, was slipping along the side of the building, quietly testing windows as he went. "He's not been wrong before."

"As I remember, though, his last mission...was something of a failure, yo."

His companion grunted, not particularly wanting to remember the tedious search of miles upon miles of desert, only to have one target die and the other disappear. He wasn't sure it classed as a failure, but it sure wasn't the best mission Tseng had sent them on.

Reno leaned back against the wall of the church, letting his head thud gently against the stone doorframe. "What now, yo? No one's home."

Rude glanced back at the Director and saw that he was removing the hinges from one of the smaller ground-level windows. Once the window swung open freely, Tseng nodded to Rude, who turned to pass the signal to Reno.

The half-rotten door gave way in a shower of splinters as the two Turks charged headlong into the building, immediately splitting up and taking cover behind the back row of pews. But there was nothing to take cover from, and after seconds that seemed like an eternity, Tseng slipped in and crept along the wall toward the altar.

"Seems a diversion wasn't needed," Reno could be heard muttering to himself. "I knew it - no one's home. At all, yo."

The redhead stood up and brazenly walked down the main aisle, EMR swinging at his side. He looked cocky and unsuspecting, but Rude knew it was all a facade. Well, at least the unsuspecting part was, anyway.

Tseng reached the sanctum and looked around with a vaguely lost expression, clearly not expecting the place to be empty. Reno was halfway down the aisle; Rude stayed near the entrance, part of his awareness on the lookout for an ambush from behind, the other part wary of a frontal attack. But the one direction none of the Turks considered - and thus the one place a successful attack could be launched from - was up.

The first intimation Reno had that the church wasn't as deserted as he'd thought was a crushing weight landing on his shoulders, smashing him face-first into the floor and knocking the air out of him. The redhead flailed wildly with his EMR, but before it could connect to anything, the weight was gone. Gasping, Reno rolled onto his feet, trying to regain his bearings.

With a sinking feeling, he recognized the towering height of the half-clad SOLDIER in front of him, and he realized this was going to be one of the toughest fights of his life. Of course, it would take more than sheer power to intimidate Reno, and with a flick of his wrist that sent electricity arcing from the end of his weapon, he re-entered the battle. Zack was ready for him, his face grim as he braced himself for the charge.

Reno caught a glimpse of movement behind the SOLDIER, and put all his effort into distracting Zack until Rude could get in position. The other Turk had a gun in his hands; Reno's stomach felt slightly queasy as he realized exactly what the objectives of this mission meant.

Sometimes it sucked to be a Turk.

Rude hadn't allowed for mako-enhanced senses, and just as he was lining up a head-shot, Zack flung himself aside, diving headfirst into the bank of pews. Even the redhead didn't try for a follow-up attack; both he and Rude leapt toward the shelter of the huge stone pillars, but they weren't quite fast enough. Reno fortuitously tripped, saving himself from the full force of the impact of an oaken pew. Beside him, Rude whipped into safety just as another bench splintered against the far wall. The bald Turk scowled and fingered his gun, clearly rattled.

Reno had just enough time to wonder where the heck Tseng was now that they needed him, before suddenly there was a third person crouched between him and Rude. A well-muscled person with mako eyes and no reason to stop at anything.

The redhead got one strike with his EMR, drew a single grunt of pain from the black-haired warrior, then he was flying through the air, slammed into a very hard wall, and tumbled into an already-smashed flowerbed.

"I don't know when to quit, yo," he mumbled around a split lip as he dragged himself back to his feet. "Looks like I shoulda just stayed down." He didn't even bother to duck as Rude's black-clad figure came sailing toward him and they both went down amidst a flurry of petals.

Both Turks were still; Zack picked up Rude's gun and casually aimed it at the inert heap, but decided against it. Tucking it into his waistband, he hurried back to the sacristy where he'd left Aerith. She'd certainly be frightened by the noise of the fight, and he wanted to reassure her as much to ease her mind as to just be there for her. His body warmed again at the thought of holding her against him, soothing her...

Without a second thought to the blacksuits, he bounded to the front of the church, skidding to a stop as he saw the door ajar. He knew he'd shut it behind him. Aerith, no matter how concerned she was for him, wouldn't have come out on her own. He clenched his fists so tightly the nails bit into his palms. To hell if they had a weapon. _He_ was a weapon. In a heartbeat, Zack was across the threshold and in the middle of the small room, landing blow after blow on a lean figure that was always a fraction too slow to dodge.

He saw a flash of a pale face, dark hair slicked back, heard a voice yelling his name, but he didn't stop. The change he'd noticed in Aerith - he'd found its source. The subtle scent that had been on her earlier, that he'd thought was her perfume or a musky scent accumulated from working in the church...it wasn't hers. The scent was now strong in his nostrils, burning into his brain, bringing back old memories. A stab of betrayal went through him as he placed both the scent and the face. Tseng. Damn the Turk!

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to break the man, to beat him lifeless. Zack had never really found the limits of his SOLDIER strength. Today seemed like a good day to find out just what power he had at his control, and slamming the treacherous bastard through a wall seemed like a good place to start. He grasped the Turk's collar in one hand, easily lifting him off the ground, and took a step toward the nearest wall. Tseng gasped and struggled in his grip, but his strength was nothing to Zack's. The SOLDIER pinned him to the wall, Tseng's feet kicking a good distance above the floor, and snarled as he looked him in the eye for the first time.

"Go to hell."

He had his other fist raised, aimed at the Turk's midsection, when a smaller figure attached itself to his arm. Without thinking, he shook it off, his elbow slamming backward, and had almost returned his full attention to Tseng when he was interrupted by Aerith screaming his name. He glanced down, blinking the bloodlust from his eyes, and was horrified to see her crumpled on the ground, barely pushing herself up on her hands, blood running from her nose - and crying at him to _stop, don't hurt Tseng!_ _Oh, please, Zack, don't!_

Time seemed to stand still as Zack stared at her, frozen, trying to understand. Then his mind caught up to him and he realized why she wanted him to stop... His heart started racing and the haze of red clouded across his vision again, and more than before he wanted to break the Turk into a thousand bloody pieces. But Aerith said no... He turned and threw the man into the corner and stood glowering over him. Tseng's eyes glazed and he slumped unconscious, and the SOLDIER turned his attention back to Aerith.

"Aerith," he said quietly, kneeling in front of her, trying to keep his face impassive. "Tell me it's not true."

She looked at him and raised her chin, ignoring her pain. "I won't lie. I don't want to see him hurt." Her brows contracted and her gaze flickered to Tseng, but quickly reverted to Zack.

Did she not know what a Turk was, what they were capable of? How could she ever have gotten on good terms with the destroyers of the planet, the murderers of innocents, Zack's own personal nemesis? She wasn't his girl any more, clearly. He'd been betrayed, not only by the one he'd counted on to protect her - he'd expected that, given what he'd learned of Shinra's perfidious nature - but by the one he'd trusted with his whole heart. It tore something out of him, reopened a gaping wound of emptiness and betrayal that he'd first felt at Angeal's death.

Zack resisted the urge to curse at the pain in every word of every language he knew. "What the - what the _hell_ does he mean to you? And here I thought you were so happy to see me come back, when it's _his_ scent on you, and _his_ hands on you, and_ him_ loving you for the first time!"

Aerith gasped, but he ignored her tears and jumped to his feet, heading out the door. He snatched up his shirt with one hand, while with the other reached for the gun at his waistband.

"No! Please, wait!" Aerith scrambled after him, but he sidestepped her arms and glared down at her.

"I'm through with waiting. I waited four years to escape from hell, then another year just so I could see you. And now I'm nothing to you. I'm through here."

"I-I thought you were dead."

"Clearly you thought wrong." He was past feeling pity, now.

"I thought you would want me to move on."

"Are you saying that miserable excuse for a man will ever be anything comparable me?" He sneered in her face. "Go whore yourself to him, see if I care. Don't come to me when he throws you aside for the piece of trash you are."

Pleading, sobbing, Aerith was on her knees now in front of him, beseeching hands grasping at him, but he hardened his heart and stalked past her, not giving her a single backward glance as he strode down the church aisle, unseeing past the groaning Reno and Rude, and out the double doors. It took a moment for Aerith to collect herself enough to race after him, once again crying his name, but by the time she reached the doorway he was gone, lost in the gloom and crowd of the slums. Knowing it would be hopeless to try to track him, she returned inside, shutting the doors and slumping disconsolately on the floor.

"Why, Zack? Why can't you see? I love you and only you. The five years were my torture, too." She cried aloud, not caring who heard her grief, and nothing could comfort her.


	7. Loss

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 7 - Loss

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Zack moved in a blind rage, striding swiftly on long legs, not caring where he was going. All he could see was a red blur, all he could hear was the pounding of his aching heart, all he could feel was...nothing. There was an emptiness inside him, a void that sucked in all emotions and left nothing but a searing pain behind. He was breathing hard and every muscle was tense as he tried his hardest not to fall to his knees then and there in the middle of the slums and weep for all he had lost.

An iron fence with an arching gateway loomed up in front of him and he stopped. The Sector 6 park, where he'd spent so much time in Aerith's sweet company. He half-smiled at the memories, then his brow contracted and he stood taller. How could he throw it all away? How could he just give up on Aerith? She was the only person left who gave his life meaning and purpose. Without her, what could he do: take on Shinra and go down in a blaze of glory? Because he certainly wouldn't have any reason left to live.

Zack always had thrown himself wholly into his emotions, and his anger, although violent, was short-lived. As his mind began to clear and his thoughts sorted themselves into coherence, he realized what a brute he'd been. Aerith had been right. She'd thought he was dead; hell, for a while there, Zack himself had thought he was dead. And yes, if that had been the case, he would have wanted her to move on.

But that didn't stop the overwhelming jealousy he'd felt, knowing Tseng had touched her and had her all to himself. He was still angry that Tseng had betrayed his oath of protection, but Zack felt he could eventually forgive him. As for Aerith...she had nothing to be forgiven of. Zack was the one who ought to be on his knees in front of her, begging for her favor after he'd so cruelly treated her.

The thought made him wheel around and go charging back toward the Sector 5 church. Slumdwellers yelled at him as he pushed past, but he didn't pay them any heed. He was halfway back to the church when a low growl rumbled through the Plate overhead, followed a moment later by an accompanying tremor through the ground underfoot. Zack skidded to a stop and glanced around, trying to locate the sound's source. This was the center of Midgar; there shouldn't be any monsters here. Nor were there any street-sweepers, mechs, large vehicles, or anything else capable of shaking the ground. Was the city built on a fault? He'd never noticed earthquakes here before... Shrugging, he started off again at a jog, only to be knocked flat a moment later by a more violent tremor.

"What the heck?" he yelled, pushing himself to hands and knees. Around him, people were likewise scrambling to their feet, until one pointed in the direction of the church and screamed a warning. Zack looked up and saw a huge cloud of smoke and fire billowing in the distance. The fire was trapped under the Plate and was racing toward him, seeking a way up and out. Preceding it was a blue-white shockwave that was knocking the roofs off buildings as it came, until the air was obscured with tumbling shingles and flying rubbish.

The third and most powerful quake ripped through the ground just then, buckling streets, fracturing buildings, knocking people down and crushing them in falling masonry. Zack leapt for the safety of a doorway just as the shock hit, throwing him to the ground face-first for a second time. Behind him, inside the building, he could hear walls crumbling and the ceiling falling. Someone cried for help, but as soon as the ground stopped moving like gelatin, Zack darted back into the street. He helped pull several people to their feet as he raced past, but his mind was half a sector ahead, imagining the destruction at the church. There was no way this was how it would end. He'd stormed out on Aerith, yelling profanities at her...and now she could be gone?

He pushed himself to the limit, enhanced muscles stretching with the exertion, until the church came into view. Slowing just long enough to verify that the building really was still standing, nestled like a guardian angel among the smaller - now badly damaged - structures, he leapt forward again, crashing through the already shattered timbers of the door.

All was not as he'd left it. One whole wall, pillars, pews, everything, was gone in a pile of rubble. There was no sign of the Turks, nor of Aerith. Refusing to even think of the possibilities, he ran for the back room. Surely the ceiling would have been sturdy in there? But since he'd left...the way he'd left, she probably hadn't stayed in that room. Oh, gods, why had it happened like this? What was going on - was this heaven's judgment on him?

He snarled as he ripped the door off its hinges and, sure enough, the room beyond was empty. Returning to the main body of the church, he made a quick circuit of it. He didn't expect to find anything. It didn't help that he refused to even look at, much less go near, the pile of debris that had once been the east wall. He didn't want to consider the possibility that she was in there somewhere...

Zack halted before the rubble, still not raising his eyes to it, and tried to steel himself enough to dig through it. He couldn't imagine which would be worse: never finding Aerith and never knowing what had happened to her, or finding her small form crushed amidst the wreckage. Whimpering, he backed up, shaking his head. He couldn't do it.

Something caught his eye as he glanced around desperately for any other course of action. Something pink, in among the broken flowers. His breath caught in his throat and something - fear or hope - choked him as he leaned down and picked up a scrap of cloth. Her ribbon. He turned it over and over in his hands, unconsciously seeking a hidden message or a miracle, something to let him know that this wasn't really happening, not to him, not to her.

There was no sign of hope. This was no fairytale; there was no charm to make a happy ending.

Zack pressed the forlorn bit of cloth to his mouth, kissing it as his tears finally began to fall. He'd lost Cloud, he'd lost Aerith, he'd lost his life.

In the distance, sirens wailed and the fire roared as the Sector 5 Reactor collapsed into a hundred-foot-tall pile of slag and cement.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for it being so short, but I felt I ought to post _something_. Also, I'm not thrilled with the flow and sentence structure - maybe I'll come through later and fix it up. Let me know if you have any ideas for structural changes that could make this story have more of an emotional impact. Thank you all for your feedback!

P.S. If there are any of you out there who've mastered the art of cliffhangers, tips would be greatly appreciated!


	8. Friends?

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 8 - Friends?

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Stealthy footsteps slowly approaching brought Zack out of his reverie and back to high alert.

He'd been sitting by the edge of the little flower bed in the church for the last hour or so, halfheartedly trying to sort out his thoughts and emotions and desperately trying to formulate a plan. He couldn't think of much, except that Aerith was gone and he didn't know where and he had even less of an idea of where to start looking. He'd scoured the church thoroughly, enough to find that her disappearance had been planned.

Her jacket and shoes, which had been left scattered in the back room, were gone; that didn't mean much in and of itself, but also missing was her bag of materia and her flower basket. Every trace of her presence at the church had been erased, save for the flowers and the ribbon now clutched tightly in Zack's hand. Even the flower wagon was gone, crushed under the tons of rubble.

But Aerith had left voluntarily, with enough time to gather all her belongings. Zack didn't like the implications of that. Had he wounded her that deeply? Had she truly moved on, over him? No way. If she'd waited five years, she wouldn't just up and leave that cavalierly. Besides, she'd never really seemed the type to hold a grudge or take rash actions...but then again, he never would have thought her the type that would like - love - Tseng.

Boots scuffed softly over stone again, and SOLDIER-enhanced ears could easily pick up the sound of heavy breathing. He wondered briefly if it was just some slumdweller thug, but then there was a sharp metallic click, a rifle being cocked. So someone had tipped off Shinra to his presence. Without moving his body, he glanced around, noting the several shadows creeping along the west wall in the darkened area between the wall and the pillars. Two more were in the rafters, undoubtedly snipers waiting for the best shot.

Zack's face tightened into what could have been a smile. Nothing like a good fight to get adrenaline flowing, and hopefully his thoughts along with it. He stood up deliberately slowly, stretching his back and pocketing the ribbon, noting that the shadowy figures didn't pause. Either they were total rookies and knew nothing of SOLDIER, or they had some big aces up their sleeve. The thought that they may not have noticed that he was enhanced didn't even cross his mind.

He waited one breath, two, then suddenly gathered himself into a crouch and leapt skyward. All those years of squats paid off, as he gained enough altitude to grab ahold of a rafter and swing himself up. The snipers were obviously too astonished to see him to do anything useful, and in a moment they joined their comrades on the ground - lying with broken necks in the flower bed. Zack, meanwhile, had darted through the gaping hole and was now on the roof.

Anticipating the hail of bullets that followed him out, he jumped down to ground level as soon as he found his balance. The asphalt came up rather faster than he'd expected, and he had to land awkwardly, falling to hands and knees in the dead-end alleyway. He stood up, brushing off his skinned hands, and made a mental note to get more back in shape. Steeping in mako did wonders for the senses, but it couldn't replace good ol' sweaty training. But as long as he stayed a dozen steps in front of any pursuers, Zack figured he would be fine. It wasn't like any ordinary troops could hold a candle to a SOLDIER.

They could, however, be aggravatingly ingenious at times - two crashed through a stained-glass window almost on top of Zack. He threw them off, but more appeared at the broken window. Zack glanced around quickly. There was only one way out, and it was a long straight shot to the sector's main road.

He had to spin quickly to avoid a bullet to the head, and almost immediately ducked back to dodge another round. Troopers were no marksmen, but if they laid down enough fire, they could eventually hit even a SOLDIER; Zack couldn't dodge forever, and with every second that passed another infantryman jumped from the window into the street. It was only a matter of time before a squad of them appeared at the far end of the alley, and then it would be all over.

Zack moved quickly, wishing - not for the first time - that he had a sword at his back. So he improvised. He flung himself to the ground, catching himself on his hands. Moving his arms quickly, he swiveled his hips parallel to the ground and swept three troopers off their feet. They flailed as they fell, taking down two more. In the confusion, the other infantry ceased fire to keep from hitting their comrades; Zack took that opportunity to grab one of the downed troopers by his suspenders and stand up, dragging his captive with him.

Luckily the man had kept a firm hold on his gun, which Zack promptly ripped from his grasp and held to the trooper's head.

"No shooting!" he yelled, but no one really cared. The infantry was a tough lot, where everyone looked out for their own sweet self and no one else. They were all cannon fodder anyway, so why did it matter who of them lived or died? As expected, they opened fire.

The man in his arms jerked once and cried out, then hung limp. Zack hauled him backward as the SOLDIER gained speed backpedalling down the alley. Bullets whizzed around him and several sank deep into the trooper's body, but none struck Zack. He was almost out, could almost see freedom opening up on either side of him...

Something sharp and pointed pressed firmly against the small of his back.

He froze. Nowhere to go. The walls of the alley still caged him in on either side, the infantry were approaching from the front - although for the moment they'd ceased fire - and there was an unknown obstacle behind him.

Zack was just about to whirl around, fling the downed trooper at whoever was behind him, and continue his run for freedom, when a voice behind him said quietly, "Don't move. I've got this."

He could have sworn he recognized that voice from somewhere...

The infantry halted and came to a ragged attention a dozen paces from Zack.

Again, that voice behind him, soft and feminine, this time with an edge of authority. "Stand down, men. I've got the target now." In a whisper only meant for him, she added, "Don't resist. Just wait until they're gone."

Zack glanced to his side, but his captor was staying squarely behind him and out of his sight. "Who are -" he began, but the sharp metal prodded harder into his back.

"Drop the trooper. On your knees, hands on your head," came the command, a verbal lash. Zack did as he was told, hoping against hope that fate would favor him just this once.

The infantrymen were shifting in place, glancing uncomfortably from Zack to his captor, then meaningfully at their guns.

"Professor Hojo wants the specimen alive," the woman behind him said. "I've got this under control. I believe you all were supposed to be looking for the terrorists?"

A red-kerchiefed man, the leader of the squad, nodded curtly and motioned his men out of the alley without arguement. After they'd left and the sound of their footsteps had faded, the person behind Zack finally moved, withdrawing her weapon and taking a step back. Zack was on his feet in an instant, whirling around in a fighting stance. But as he recognized the woman, he stopped, letting his hands fall to his sides, and even smiled slightly.

"Cissnei! Long time no see."

She spared him a tight smile. "Yeah. I was just...in the area."

"Ah. Turk business."

"Nothing I couldn't spare time from to help a friend. But I can't be around to save you every time you nearly get caught, y'know." Cissnei rested her shuriken on one shoulder. "I'd better not be seeing you around town any more, Zack. Too dangerous - for me and for you." She turned to leave, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Hey, Ciss, I know you've already done a lot for me, but this is important. Do you know where Aerith is? Was she taken from the church? What's going on here?"

"Regarding that explosion: we think AVALANCHE, the old eco-terrorist organization, may have resurfaced. We'll know for sure as soon as someone manages to catch one of them. As for Aerith, I - I'm not supposed to know."

Zack rounded on her. "But you do know something?" Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, seeing that she was torn between loyalty to her job and loyalty to her friends, he knelt on one knee so he was no longer towering over her. "Cissnei, please. You know what Aerith means to me. Don't do this to me. If you know something, please, help me."

She met his eyes, hazel staring into glowing blue, weighing her heart.

Finally she looked away, down at the ground. "Promise you won't hurt anyone."

"What have they done to her?"

"The Turks are my family. Don't hurt them."

Turks again. Zack made the obvious connection. "So it's the Tower, huh? I should've known!" His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched as he realized the implications of that. All the experiments he'd been through, all the fear and horror - and he'd been a trained SOLDIER. Aerith was not only a girl, but also the last Cetra. He didn't want to imagine what Hojo could have in store for her.

"Thanks, Ciss," he called over his shoulder as he sprinted out of the alley.

Behind him, he didn't hear Cissnei shouting after him, "It's not what you think! Zack, wait! No killing!"

* * *

Zack hesitated at the highway ramp up to above-Plate. With his uniform, he'd be a prime target for the security patrols now crawling all over the city. Unfortunately, he didn't have the gil on him to buy more clothes, and stealing was out of the question.

With a sigh, Zack took off his armored belt and shoulder pauldrons, dropping them behind a crate. He straightened his shoulders and took two steps toward the highway, then stopped. What was he thinking? A six-foot-tall man, dressed all in black, with glowing blue eyes - inconspicuous? He might as well have his whole fan club follow him in.

He donned the discarded pieces again. He wouldn't be any good to Aerith dead. A little armor was better than none at all, although what he really wanted was a weapon of any sort. Mentally kicking himself for not keeping one of the trooper's rifles - even though ranged weapons weren't his favorite - he glanced around for anything to wield. The crate, a piece of rusty pipe, nothing worth while.

He paused as sharp ears picked up the tramping footsteps of an approaching patrol. _Hey, I want weapons, so a whole squad comes my way. How lucky is that?_ Smiling grimly, he stepped back into the shadows beside a tall building and waited. But soon he could distinguish another sound, uneven footsteps running a little ahead of the troopers, swiftly coming closer.

Backing a little farther around the corner, he hoped whoever it was would hurry past and neither give away his position nor be a witness. He began to become slightly worried, though, as the sound slowed as it came closer to the corner. Maybe the troops were chasing the person, and their target was aiming to hide right where Zack was. This might work to his advantage, after all.

A tall figure came into view, a blur of black and white that whisked around the corner and skidded to a stop a foot behind Zack. The approaching infantry were momentarily forgotten as he turned to face this new threat, but his eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks.

"Tifa!"


	9. A Day for Blood

**A/N:** In answer to a question raised in a review: "where's the Buster Sword?" Way back in chapter 1, it was mentioned that Zack left it lying against a stone in the Wastelands because he couldn't carry both it and Cloud.

* * *

I was sort-of basing Tifa's actions off of her behavior in _Last Order_, to try to keep her from being too OOC. Let me know if I succeeded!

* * *

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 9 - A Day for Blood

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

The dark-haired girl lifted her chin defiantly, fists raised in a fighting position. "Who's asking?"

Aware of the quickly-approaching patrol, Zack lowered his own hands to his sides. "It's me, Zack Fair. I was assigned to investigate the Nibelheim reactor several years ago -"

"With _Sephiroth_," Tifa spat. "I don't have very fond memories of your time there."

So she did recognize him. Zack sighed. He just couldn't win in this world. "Look, I was the one who tried to stop Sephiroth. I stood up for your people...for all the good that did." Pounding boots were coming closer every second. "If we keep bickering, we'll both be caught and killed. Say we work together?"

Her fists came down a fraction. "Work toward what?"

"At the moment, taking down this troop. Then, who knows? Maybe Shinra's next on the list."

Tifa nodded, her brow furrowed. "Okay. How do you want to do this?"

"I can do most of the damage, you can pick off the survivors. Unless you want to be in the middle of the action?"

"Fine. Let's go." She stepped up beside Zack as he turned back to face the street.

The first rank of infantrymen passed them, their helmets obscuring their peripheral vision; the second rank was looking side to side, their triple headlamps illuminating every shadowed corner. The closest man opened his mouth to yell, but SOLDIER reflexes were faster, and Zack had broken his neck before he could utter a sound. Then he was in among the troopers, dodging blows until he could snatch a sword from one man's hand, and then laying about him with mighty strokes. The infantry couldn't hope to block him as he clove through swords, armor, and flesh, and it was too close quarters for rifles to be any use. Several of them tried to weigh him down, forsaking all defenses as they grappled onto his arms and legs. Zack swung his elbow into the face of one, his knee into the stomach of another, but nothing shook their grip and he stumbled over a decapitated body and went down on his back.

The rest of the patrol swarmed on top of him, pinning him to the ground with sheer weight of numbers, as the troop leaders raised his sword, point downward, above Zack's chest. The SOLDIER rolled suddenly to one side as the sword fell, the blade scraping along his back but not breaking the skin. He knew he wouldn't be so lucky a second time, as he realized that infantry carried short daggers at their belts. His legs were pinned down securely, but he managed to wrench one arm free and knocked two men over backwards with the force of his punch.

A knife came at his throat; he blocked the blow with his forearm, but felt the blade sink deep into the muscle there. Groaning, he saw another dagger raised, but then there was a blur of motion and the threat was gone, replaced by a lithe, whirling figure - Tifa. Her kicks and punches cleared enough of the men off of Zack to allow him back on his feet, and as his hand found the familiar hilt of a sword again, the fight was as good as won.

Zack had to give them credit - only one broke and fled, to be taken down by a knife thrown by Tifa; the rest stood their ground to the last man, inflicting minimal damage on the two.

As the last infantry fell to the ground dead, Zack spun his new sword and hung it at his back. Good Gaia, but it felt good to have a weapon again! Tifa arched her back and stretched her arms, then shook her hands out. She looked good for helping take down a whole squad, with only a black eye and a few scrapes to show for it. Zack was in worse shape, with knife wounds deep in his right arm and both shoulders, and a slight touch of a limp.

"Hey." Zack glanced over to see Tifa looking at him, a hint of friendliness in her dark red eyes. "Thanks for taking out that patrol."

"Huh?"

"Well, they were chasing me, after all, and you ended up taking the brunt of the fight, so...thank you."

He grinned despite the pain. "Thank _you_ for the assist. I guess I've gotten more out of training than I'd thought. You're pretty impressive."

Tifa blushed and looked away, rummaging in a pocket. "You look kinda roughed up. Need a Cure?" She held out a glowing green orb, which Zack eagerly took and used on his wounds.

Now that the battle was over and he was thinking clearly again, Zack realized that Tifa was probably one of the last people he wanted to meet. Not only was he unsure of her intentions - and she of his - but also she knew Cloud...and she'd last seen him with Zack...and she'd be sure to ask...

His mind turned to more immediate problems. "Tifa? What are you doing here in Midgar, anyway? I thought you were a country girl." He winced as he said that, an image floating across his vision of Cloud in the snow outside Modeoheim, proclaiming himself to be a 'country boy.'

Tifa shrugged. "I found a new purpose in life after Sephiroth" -_ and you _- "destroyed my home." The unspoken accusation didn't go unnoticed. "The explosion earlier this morning; surely you heard it? That was us taking out one of the reactors. Striking back at Shinra."

Wait. Tifa was involved with the group that tried to destroy the planet, that had been responsible for the deaths of Zack's friends Essai and Sebastian? He looked away. "By 'us' you mean AVALANCHE, right?"

She started to smile proudly at being recognized, then stopped as she noticed Zack's dour expression. "No, no, no. Not the original AVALANCHE. That organization's been gone for years now. This is a new one, formed by myself and some friends. We only target Shinra, not the planet, not civilians. We don't harm the common people."

_No, you just provide enough of a distraction so they can be captured by Shinra._ His thoughts were running in circles. _Damn you, Tseng!_

"Well, whatever. Good luck. I'll see ya around." He tossed her materia back to her, then turned and started off above-Plate, hoping to get away before she asked any questions. Questions he really didn't want to have to answer.

"Zack?"

He stopped, his back still toward her, and braced himself.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Tower. They've captured a friend of mine, and -"

"Is it Cloud?"

A dozen lies flashed through his mind: Cloud had gone back to Nibelheim; Cloud had been assigned elsewhere; Zack didn't know where Cloud was; it was classified information. None of them appealed to him.

He couldn't shield her from the truth forever.

"Cloud's...Cloud's dead."

At Tifa's lack of response he turned to face her, just in time to catch her as she crumpled to the ground. She didn't cry, didn't make a sound, just trembled in his arms and hid her face in his sweater. Zack held her to his chest, at a loss for what he could tell her to comfort her.

Cloud had fallen bravely in battle. He could tell her that much. But he couldn't tell her any more than that. There was no sugarcoated way to describe the blood, the dozens of wounds, the bulletholes that had riddled that limp young body.

Tifa abruptly stiffened against him, then roughly shoved him away and leapt to her feet. There was a fire in her deep red eyes that Zack had never seen before, but her face was a mask and gave nothing away. Neither did her voice, as she asked, "Who did it?"

"Shinra," he answered, his own memories rising like a flood to drown him. In his fear for Aerith, he'd forgotten the oath of vengeance he'd made to Cloud. But now, with Shinra responsible for everything that had happened, his two missions merged into one: get into the Tower, and make them all pay for what they'd done to him and his friends.

"I hate it all," Tifa was muttering, standing rigidly with her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm going to destroy it all!"

"Tifa?" Zack asked, taking a step toward her. "Are you -"

"_Okay_? What do you think?" She spat in the direction of the Tower. "Shinra killed him..." She suddenly locked eyes with him. "And you're part of Shinra!"

"No! Haven't you been listening? Cloud was my friend, too! I'm going to take them down - alone."

Tifa stared at him, the fury in her eyes unabated.

Zack continued, "I don't want to see anyone else die fighting the Company. I don't want to see you get hurt. I'll do it alone."

"And if you fail?"

"Then you can try your luck next...or run far away out of their reach. I just want to know that, even if I go down, someone will be left who remembers Cloud."

That broke something inside of Tifa, as her tears finally began to fall and her shoulders shook with sobs. "I n-never got to say goodbye. I never t-told him...how proud I was," she whispered.

Zack backed up quietly, toward the ramp. "I'm sorry," he said, hearing in his words an echo of the same words he'd spoken in the Nibelheim Reactor before facing Sephiroth. "I can't change what's happened. But I can keep it from happening again. If I succeed...maybe you'll remember me kindly." He turned and dashed up the ramp, wanting to get out of her sight as quickly as possible before he, too, broke down.

Now wasn't the time for emotion. Now was the time for vengeance.

* * *

The area around the Tower was strangely silent. Zack walked slowly down one of the spoke-like streets toward Midgar's center, wary of an ambush, but there wasn't a breath of life in the place. No civilians crowded the streets, no children played on the sidewalks, no stores bustled with customers. Nothing. Under the Plate had been crawling with patrols and infantry squads, but here even those were absent.

_This is downright eerie_, Zack thought, _but I guess it's better than the alternative._ The silence made his footsteps sound loud as thunder, and he moved even slower, keeping noise to a minimum.

He darted across the street and stopped before the double-doors into Shinra's lobby. Peering through the glass, he didn't know what to expect, but he certainly hadn't hoped for this. The area was totally deserted. Zack opened the door and stepped inside, one hand on his sword, prepared to defend himself from whatever threats might appear.

The lobby was empty; the lights were on, the display vehicles were illuminated on their stands, the ventilation system hissed quietly in the background, but no people were in evidence anywhere. It was the most _dead_ Zack had ever seen the place. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how many regulations had been enacted, the Tower shouldn't look like this. But Zack was glad of the change.

As long as the elevators still worked...

He moved quickly, dashing up the broad staircase arcing along the side of the room, until he reached the balcony at the top. Pausing for a moment, he looked out over the lobby, but nothing new could be seen. Still no sign of troops. So far, so good.

He walked up to the elevator and pushed the button, then jumped to the side as the doors opened. As no gunfire came out, he leaned forward to ascertain that the car was, indeed, empty. Not that it should be surprising at this point, but it was still somewhat unnerving. _All_ of Shinra's employees couldn't be out hunting AVALANCHE...so where were they? Holed up on the science floor, waiting for him to come in so they could gun him down?

"Now that's a cheering thought," he muttered as the elevator doors closed and the car began its slow ascent.

Zack had intended to exit the elevator several floors early and get to the science lab via the stairs, but the car ground to a halt long before reaching the 59th floor. With a groan of metal, the elevator stopped and the lights flickered. Zack waited a few seconds, but four years in a tube had made him claustrophobic, so it wasn't long before he pried the doors open and slipped out. Sword in hand, he glanced around, but of course no one was there. It took him only a moment to recognize where he was - he'd spent a good part of his time with Shinra on this floor. The 49th. The SOLDIER floor.

He frowned. It ought to be bustling with activity: the training room, the break area, even some of the bunks were on this floor. He headed farther down the hall, keeping his back to the wall and glancing behind him every few seconds. If he was in SOLDIER territory, any threat he might face would be as well-trained as he himself was, and they would almost surely outnumber him.

_Let's see...the stairs are on the other side of the break area. So what if it's 18 stories to the science level? A few stairs won't kill me - and I'd feel safer than on the elevator._

He strode confidently down the hall as his conviction grew that no one was on the floor at all. What was going on, a Company vacation?

Suddenly he paused in midstride. That smell! The hair on the back of his neck rose and he instinctively backed up until he was against a wall again. The scent was heavy in his nostrils, choking him. The smell of a battlefield. Of blood.


	10. In the Tower

**A/N: **Sorry for the long update. That's what midterms can do to a person... But at least until finals in early December, I don't forsee any other delays.

So, um, lots of blood and gore in this chapter. Like, _lots_. Happy (late) Halloween!

Enjoy!

* * *

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 10 - In the Tower

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Not for the first time in his life, Zack found himself cursing enhanced senses, as the smell of blood intensified to a near-nauseating level the closer he got to the scene of the battle. Finally he resorted to holding his breath, only to let it out in a great gasp as he rounded the last corner and the SOLDIER break area opened before him. This had been no battle. This was a massacre.

Familiar blue and deep purple uniforms were torn, dyed black with drying blood; armor was cut in two, swords broken, helmets crushed as if by a giant's hand. Zack sent up a silent thanks that most of the bodies had already been claimed by the Lifestream. As it was, the place already bore too much of a resemblance of the plain outside Midgar, when he woke up amid the rain and slaughter.

And just like then, he had that same sick feeling in his gut, that same knowledge that some of his friends had fallen here. Kunsel, Luxiere, all his old buddies - they couldn't all have survived this.

A limp arm was outflung from behind an overturned table; Zack felt he ought to at least arrange the bodies, close their staring eyes and fold their limbs into some semblance of repose, but he couldn't bring himself to touch them. Not when there was a chance of seeing their faces, blank and bloody, sightless eyes staring past him...no, he'd already seen enough of that to last a lifetime. He'd never liked the aftermath of battlefields, never liked seeing even enemy troops dead, and this cut too close to home. If things had turned out differently between himself and Shinra, it could easily be his own blood congealing on the floor and splattered on the walls. The mako in that blood was the same mako that ran in his own veins...

He snapped himself out of his morbid daze quickly as he glanced around the room again. Whatever superhuman power had been able to inflict this damage on a room full of SOLDIERs was a force to be reckoned with. No, not reckoned with. A force to flee from. This - this was downright terrifying.

How long did it take for a body to dissolve into the Lifestream? He found he couldn't remember. Was the perpetrator of this massacre already long gone, or was it still around, going story by story up the Tower, killing everyone as it went? He shuddered at the mental image that gave him, a dark shadow oozing up stairwells until it reached the very top - and then what? Was it waiting for him somewhere, or was it perhaps coming down the stairs again, searching for more blood...

His sword shook in his hand and he was on the verge of bolting back to the elevator and getting out of there as fast as he could. Then reason kicked in, and he almost laughed at himself. Why, this was no better than when he'd been five or six, and he'd convinced himself that an Ifrit lived under his bed and he'd been too scared to get out of bed in the morning for fear it would grab his legs. There was no shadow-monster on the stairs. No invisible killer was going to sneak up behind him and cut his throat. And if one did, well, he'd give it the fight of its life. He needed to remember what he was here for. For Aerith, and for revenge. It just looked like the revenge part had been taken care of already.

Now all he needed was to go up twenty-something floors and get Aerith out of here before whatever ninja, assassin, or rampant First that had done this got up to the science floors. Once he had his girl, they'd get out, leave Midgar, and that would be that. But the devil was in the details.

Turning his back on the crimson-drenched room, he ordered his mind to think straight. Equipment. He was across the hall from both the supply room and the materia room. There ought to be enough in there to outfit an army - and probably some powerful stuff, too, if the quality of his supplies while in Shinra were any indication.

He hurried to the materia room's door, pressing his ear to it, and was both relieved and further troubled to hear no sounds from within. The only advantage this deathly silence offered was that if there was any other person in the building, Zack would be able to hear them from many rooms away. The fact that there was no one there to hear was what set his nerves on edge.

Letting the tip of his sword lead the way, he edged into the room and blinked in the sudden lighting. The fixtures overhead were harshly bright, unpleasantly reminiscent of a surgeon's lamp, but around the perimeter of the room more inviting colors were visible. Ice-blue electricity crackled intermittently in a case in one corner, while a crate adjacent was rimed with frost from Blizzaga materia. Along one whole wall were glass-faced cabinets that emitted a soft green light - _just like Aerith's eyes_ - that made Zack feel healthier just by looking at them. Curaga, Restore, Regen, Esuna. But even more welcoming than their healing glow was an ominous darker green tinged with red that came from a locked chest in the far corner. Oh, yes. Hell Firaga.

He checked the room thoroughly once more to make certain there were no nasty surprises - not even any corpses - before swinging his sword to his back and tearing into the metal-bound chest. The lock popped after a few moments of being subjected to SOLDIER strength, and Zack grinned down sinisterly at the collection of dark swirling materia inside. Slipping two into his pocket, he started to turn away, then stopped and grabbed another orb. It wasn't like he was being charged for these.

Next came the Curaga set, followed by a few random extras. Some he infused directly into his body to be ready for instant use, while the others he crammed into his pockets. "I've gotta find me a backpack now," he muttered, more just to hear sounds than because it needed to be stated aloud. He vaguely remembered, from years ago, dozens of materia-hunting missions he'd once done for the mysterious "Treasure Princess," and chuckled at the thought that he probably looked now as she had then, with glowing orbs embedded in both hands and with pockets bulging.

But his mirth was shortlived, and he was once again faced with grim reality as he left the materia room and headed toward the supply area. He'd passed several empty hallways with no sign of either the killer or victims, and was starting to regain some bounce in his stride, when he heard footsteps up ahead. Crouching into an alcove, he peered out, readying himself for an attack of any sort. But the noise was wavering, with long gaps between steps, and it seemed to be coming no closer. He waited one minute, then two, then five, but still nothing appeared. Nevertheless, he was becoming more and more nervous at being on this floor so long, as if staying in one place could draw the killer to him. Finally - never having been one for inaction - he stepped out of the alcove and hurried on toward the supply room and the footsteps.

The sound became more distinct as he walked; by the time he was outside the door, it was evident that it wasn't footsteps at all. Something was dripping drop by drop onto the tiled floor, and Zack had a very bad feeling he knew exactly what it was. But even the sight of the break area didn't prepare him for what he saw upon entering this room. It seemed that this had been a sort of last stand for all the people on this floor: mostly SOLDIER 3rds, some 2nds, a group of infantrymen, and even a Turk. They had all been cut to ribbons.

Zack only hesitated in the doorway long enough to make sure that no one was alive in there, and then he shut the door, reeled back, and was violently sick in the hallway. Blood and gore was one thing, a reality that every warrior had to come to terms with, but no warrior would have the perversity to cut his foes into pieces and scatter them all over the room. No _human_ could do such a thing.

_I learned a long time ago that even those who look human, aren't. Why should this surprise me? Shinra was fool enough to continue their experiments even after they'd seen Sephiroth, and now they're reaping the - wait! Sephiroth. He..._

_He's done this before. In Nibelheim._ Broken bodies, ripped apart with the razor-sharp Masamune, then wantonly thrown into the burning buildings. Even the children hadn't been spared, nor the animals. And the Nibelheim slaughter was being reenacted here, in this building, with Aerith somewhere in here.

His thoughts were spiralling dangerously close to the edge of madness before reality reappeared in the picture. Sephiroth was long dead, disintegrated in a mako reactor, and even Hojo would have the IQ not to recreate the world's deadliest weapon, not after seeing what he could do. There must be a reasonable explanation. Zack didn't really care at this point. All he wanted was to find Aerith and take her safely out of here and swear to never leave her side again. If only he could find her before whatever else was in the Tower did!

He spat bile from his mouth, grimacing at the burning taste, but glad to have that stink in his nostrils instead of the hideous smell of blood. Time to get moving. "Science floor it is," he said to himself. "Guess I didn't need new equipment anyway." Some new armor would have been nice, as would a simple change of clothes, but certainly nothing he was willing to go back into that room for.

Sword in one hand, Hell Firaga in the other, he charged up the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. If the killer was moving floor by floor, he might get ahead of it this way. If it moved faster than he gave it credit for...he didn't like to think of that outcome.

He'd gone about ten stories when he slowed slightly, then came to a sudden stop by the door onto the 62nd floor. He couldn't recall immediately this floor's designation - he'd never gone much higher in the Tower than the SOLDIER floor - but there was clearly someone there. A faint groaning reached his sensitive ears, the sound of someone in terrible pain but lacking the strength to cry out. The sort of sound Cloud had made as he was dying.

Without really knowing why he did so, Zack cautiously opened the door and stepped through. In his early days at Shinra, he'd often been laughed at and told that he was too soft-hearted to be a SOLDIER; even Angeal had lectured him once or twice on the necessity of objective reasoning, not emotional. But Zack had never been able to pass up someone needing help, and now was no exception, even though his better judgment warned against it.

It took him ten strides before he recognized where he was, and he almost turned around and left. The Turk floor. A dull rage flared up in him. _Why, by Shiva, should I help any of _them_? Well...maybe I won't. Maybe I'll put them out of their misery._ But the thought of more bloodshed nearly made him sick again, and he recalled Cissnei's pleading words, _They're my family...don't hurt them._ He growled, the sound loud on the silent floor, and continued toward the now intermittent moans. On the bright side, the Turks probably knew exactly where Aerith was, which would narrow down his search immensely. Plus, they would be able to tell him what had caused this massacre...

He reached the central area of the Turk floor, a large lounge-like area with numerous hallways branching off like spokes of a wheel, leading to the different offices and storage rooms. There were no bodies here, but there were signs of a fight: sword gouges slashed deep into the metal walls, scorch marks on the floor, a spray of blood on one of the doorframes. Zack scoffed at the thought that the Turks had been better able to resist the intruder than the SOLDIERs had been, but that was until he glanced down the nearest hallway and saw a mangled pile of what had once been human beings.

His stomach threatened to betray him again, but he quickly returned to the lounge and concentrated on getting his breathing under control. Weakness would kill him here, where danger lurked in every shadow - and still the moaning continued, fainter now, but no less pained. Frowning, Zack tried to locate which hallway it was coming from, doing his best not to look too closely as he did so. Finally he found a corridor that was only somewhat smeared with blood and he began inching his way down it, checking inside every open room and shutting the door before moving on to the next one. He was fairly sure now that the sound was coming from the office on the far left, but he wasn't about to walk into an ambush just for the sake of some Turk.

Once he was certain that there was no other life in the area besides himself and the groaning man, he hurried into the last office - and stopped short. A tall dark figure was flung on the floor, arms clutched to a bleeding chest, black hair matted with red, face bruised almost beyond recognition, but still alive. A revolver was near him, crushed as if it had been stepped on by a behemoth, and spent cartridges littered the floor. Clearly he'd put up a fight, but had ultimately lost. Badly. Now he was lying there, eyes shut, face drawn into a mask of pain, oblivious to his surroundings, whimpering like a child, as he slowly bled to death.

If it had been any other Turk, Zack would have immediately whipped out his Curaga and set to work doing what he could. But for Tseng...should he even try to save him?


	11. Human, or Something Else

**A/N: **Really long chapter here. It's what happens when I feel guilty about not posting regularly. As always, I'm happy to hear any feedback from my readers!

* * *

Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 11 - Human, or Something Else

_by The Secret SOLDIER_

Pain. That was all Tseng had known for a long time now, seemingly endless pain and darkness, alone in the void. At first he had tried to staunch his wounds, tried to reach the Potions in the desk so close behind him, but to no avail. Now all he waited for was the faint green tendrils of the Lifestream, hovering so close just on the edge of his consciousness, waited for them to slowly enfold him in their eternal embrace, to take away his pain as his life faded back into the Planet.

Now seemed a good time to die, his body kept telling him. You've had a good life, but you're tired now. Time to let someone else pick up the slack and go on.

He wanted to agree; he was very tired (although his analytical side told him that was due to blood loss) and he had nothing left to live for (although it whispered that he still had unfinished business). But he was a Turk through and through, and Turk training was nothing if not solidly ingrained into his very thoughts. He couldn't give up while there was still data to analyze, stimuli to process...

But as time had dragged on and his surroundings had faded into utter silence and his sight into darkness, there were fewer and fewer stimuli to keep his senses awake. He had almost succumbed to the clinging green when something intruded into his solitude, sending the tendrils writhing back into his subconscious and bringing his wandering mind to half-awareness.

Footsteps: slow, but coming closer.

_It can't be anything important_, his body told him. _Go back to sleep._

_Intruder!_ his Turk training warned. _Be prepared for anything._

In the war between human and Turk, Turk won. Tseng opened his eyes just barely, that simple movement taxing his strength. As he came back to full consciousness, the pain made itself known more fiercely, but he held onto the sliver of light he could see through drooping lids, and refused to slip back into oblivion.

A shadow moved across his limited field of view, then something large and dark blocked most of the light. Tseng squinted at it until it resolved itself into a very scuffed, worn boot. Above that was a pair of black baggy pants - But that was as far as Tseng got, before he closed his eyes again, completely worn out and this time ready for the void.

The Lifestream had already reappeared, and he could have sworn he heard faint whispers, voices he'd never hoped to hear again, his parents calling his name, friends and colleagues he'd known and long since lost...

..._Tseng..._

_...Tseng!_

"Tseng!"

He knew that voice. And it belonged to someone who was very definitely not dead. Tseng groaned and his eyes flickered open, but only for a moment. "...help...me..." he mumbled, not sure if Zack could even hear or understand him. He knew the SOLDIER had no reason to like him, but surely he had enough compassion to help a fellow human.

_But what if he's not human? What if he's like that monster that did this...that monster with a human face._

His thoughts were slowly brought back to cohesion and the Turk realized that Zack was using all of the healing materia he had on hand - which appeared to be an unprecedented amount. Finally the bleeding stopped and the pain eased enough for him to sit up, one hand still clutched tightly to his chest. He glanced up at Zack, who was still concentrating on getting Curaga to fully close the wound, and for one of the very few times in his life, Tseng felt apprehensive. Zack had once been his friend, but things had changed since that time, and now more than ever Tseng was feeling his own mortality and was very aware of the fact that Zack could crush the life out of him with a single hand if he so chose. And this was all because of Aerith - but even knowing what he did now, Tseng wouldn't have changed a thing.

"So..." Zack drawled, his tone forcedly casual. "Someone finally got really fed up with Shinra?"

Tseng sat up, glanced around at the damage, and returned his attention to Zack. "You could say so. Sephiroth did this."

Zack was sorting the materia back into his pockets as the Turk spoke; he froze at mention of that name and looked Tseng in the eye, part angrily, part desperately. "How is that possible? He died, I saw it! No one could survive a wound like that, plus the fall and the mako at the bottom -"

"Nevertheless, it was Sephiroth. I have no reason to lie to you."

"I'm not doubting you. I'm doubting my own sanity, at the moment."

"Don't. Apparently it's very easy for SOLDIERs to go insane." Tseng stood up, adjusting his blood-stained suit jacket on his shoulders, and retrieved his revolver.

Zack was still shell-shocked, muttering, "How? No one else has come back. Why him? Why this?" He looked up at Tseng from his position still kneeling on the floor, and the Turk was instantly reminded of Zack's old nickname, 'Puppy.' From this angle, he looked very lost, frightened, and helpless - although Tseng reminded himself that that last was only an illusion. He was a young man, hardly more than a boy, who had watched his world crumble into blood and dust, and was now left to pick up the pieces.

Moved by a sudden rare spark of sympathy, the Turk reached down a hand and pulled the boy to his feet. "We need to leave here. There's nothing left, and we've fallen behind as it is."

Zack pulled himself together with a visible shudder; Tseng could almost see his thoughts sorting themselves out in his head. Mako blue eyes abruptly locked with his. "Where's Aerith?"

Tseng looked away, cringing inwardly as Zack's imposing form loomed closer.

"If you sent her to the labs, I swear I'll -"

He stopped as he caught sight of Tseng's face, saw the moisture glistening in dark eyes and inching down stony features.

"Tseng...where is she? What happened here? _What's going on?_"

The Turk motioned wearily to the wrecked desk and he slumped in his chair as Zack perched uneasily on the desktop. The suited man sighed, resting his face in his hands, and slowly shook his head.

"I don't know where to begin, Zack. I don't know the _why_ of it any more than you do. But I can tell you how it happened, and hope you can see some pattern in it that I can't."

* * *

Tseng was in the lounge area, carefully measuring cream and sugar into a steaming mug of coffee. Reno, Rude, and most of the other ranked Turks were off hunting AVALANCHE, leaving only the mostly inexperienced rookies to silently laugh at their leader as he placed the coffee and a single flower on a tray and carried it from the room, face stoic although he knew they were laughing. But laughter wasn't the worst he'd suffered for this relationship, and he'd gladly bear it if that was the worst to come.

He proceeded down the hall and used his foot to push open his office door, shouldering it closed behind him. Aerith glanced at him from her seat by the window where she'd been looking at the thick gray smog outside, and nodded her acknowledgment.

"Coffee, Miss Gainsborough?" he asked, extending the tray to her.

She glanced at the mug and the already wilting flower, then looked him in the face. "You can call me Aerith, Mr. Tseng."

"I don't know if I should be that personal anymore."

She smiled at him slightly, and he took that as permission to sit next to her on the window seat.

"I say you can," she said, as if that solved all the problems of the world. "Don't worry about Zack, he'll..." She trailed off, and Tseng watched as she gingerly touched her split lip, healing from where Zack had knocked her down in the sacristy. Feeling eyes on her, she met his gaze again, half in challenge, half in assurance. "He'll understand. I'll explain everything to him," she said with finality, and Tseng knew from years of shadowing her that that was her way of closing a subject. And with her stubbornness, she'd follow through on what she said, no matter if she got knocked down again or not.

They sat in silence for several minutes, long enough for Tseng to regret his lack of skill at making harmless small talk, until Aerith turned around and picked up the wilted flower, holding it to her face to smell it. "Thank you," she whispered, smiling at him again, and tucked the blossom behind her ear. But Tseng knew that the wistful look in her eyes wasn't for him. He'd had his one night of passion, but the girl didn't really love him. She liked him, respected him, maybe - he could hope - trusted him, but her heart was wholly Zack's. Not for the first time, Tseng berated himself for trying to take something that wasn't his. No wonder it had created only pain, for everyone involved.

"Are your Turks looking for Zack?"

Tseng nodded slowly.

"But not to hurt him, right? Only to let him know where I am and that I'm safe. Right?"

"Aerith, I doubt Zack would let a Turk within speaking distance of him. He's...not the person you knew."

An indignant toss of the head. "I know that. It's been years; I don't expect him to be the same. But he's still Zack." She watched him as he avoided her gaze. "Isn't he? Where's he been all these years, anyway? You know, I can see it."

"I-I can't tell you." He stood again, cursing that his composure was rock-solid to everyone except her; she seemed to find every weak place of his, every tender spot, and bring it to light. He couldn't lie to her, but there was no way that he would ever tell her the hell her lover had gone through.

A shadow of a scowl crossed her features and she turned her back on him, pouting at her reflection in the glass. "Fine then. I'll ask Zack himself."

"No." This was one battle Tseng couldn't let drop.

"So tell me." She turned to face him again, her head slightly tilted, her eyes beseeching. Tseng told himself not to be a fool and give in, but Aerith always stirred something human deep inside him, and he couldn't refuse that pleading face.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the best way to tell her and yet not tell her at the same time. "He was the subject of experiments. Similar to the ones you were a part of while you were a child in Shinra."

Green eyes widened, the lower lids filled with tears, and Tseng realized that drawing that comparison hadn't been the wisest choice.

"Zack..." Perfect lips formed the word silently as she shut her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It wasn't like that," Tseng said quickly, trying too late to cover his mistake. "He was in stasis, asleep, most of the time."

But that only seemed to make things worse, as Aerith drew her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself, hiding her face as she quietly cried. Tseng reached out a hand to her, hesitating, slowly at first, then as he touched her shoulder and she leaned into his hand, he moved suddenly, gathering her to him and holding her head to his chest as he pressed his face into her hair.

"Aerith, I'm so sorry," he whispered, rocking her back and forth in his lap until the shaking sobs ceased. "It would seem...I've been on the wrong side the whole time. I want to make it all up to you. I want to help you, but you must understand one thing. Zack can't be trusted. The experiments changed him -"

She shoved him away, jumping to her feet and stumbling backward until she ran into the desk. "I don't believe you!" she shouted, loud enough so the whole floor could probably hear her. "You're saying that just so you can have me all to yourself! Well, I don't love you, and I never have, and I never will, so you can just give up on that! All my life you've spied on me and watched me and waited until you thought you could take me away. Now that Zack's come back, you realize your time is up. That's why you brought me here, isn't it, to keep me away from the church in case he came back. Because I know he'll come for me. He loves me -"

"Then why did he hit you?" Tseng shot back acidly. "Why did he call you a whore? Why did he storm out and leave you to me, when he could have taken you with him?" His tone softened, and he dropped his hands helplessly. "He's not human anymore, Aerith, you've got to understand that. What they did to him - do you remember hearing any news about First Class SOLDIERs years ago, two of the Company's best, by the names of Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos?" She shook her head, her mouth set into a firm line, her expression one of distrust. But at least she was listening, that much was clear by the way her hands gripped the desk behind her tighter with every word he spoke.

"They were experiments from the day they were born. Shinra was trying to create better warriors, stronger, faster, smarter. Instead, they created monsters; both Angeal and Genesis went insane and killed lots of people before they were finally killed themselves."

"I've heard of the Genesis War," Aerith murmured softly, looking at the ground. "Zack fought a lot of copies. But Angeal..." She stopped suddenly as remembrance flashed through her. "Angeal was Zack's friend. One of his copies came to the church and protected me. He wasn't evil!"

Tseng scowled at the floor. How had an incident like _that _been missed in the reports? "Then tell me why Zack killed him."

Aerith blinked. She remembered Zack weeping, telling her his mentor had died, but he hadn't said how...or why. "I don't believe you," she answered, feeling childish. She wanted to deny it, even if it was the truth, because the reality of it was too harsh. If Zack really had killed Angeal, then there was something undeniably wrong. Something she wanted to ignore, even if her soul, the part of her that the Planet sometimes whispered to, told her that it was the truth.

"But -" Whatever Tseng's next words were going to be, they were interrupted by a growing noise, a faint murmur that was quickly swelling into a cacophony of screaming and metal-on-metal. Gunshots rang out on the Turk floor, and Tseng was on his feet in an instant, whipping his revolver out of his suit. "Get down behind the desk," he ordered, and Aerith didn't hesitate. Tseng strode to the door and pulled it open; as he glanced down the hall, his eyes grew wide and he hurriedly slammed and locked the door. He fought the urge to join Aerith in cowering under the desk, and instead dragged a heavy metal bookcase to the floor, scattering books and papers in the process. Hunkering down behind it, he waited, trying not to listen too closely to the dying shrieks of his fellow Turks.

"What is it?" Aerith whimpered from her hiding place.

"I don't know," Tseng answered truthfully. "But it's not good. Stay down and stay quiet, and you'll be all right."

A timid squeak was his only answer, and he could imagine her huddled there, praying for Zack to come save her. As a matter of fact, Tseng realized, it _would_ be nice to have a SOLDIER at his side. His little revolver seemed very inadequate against the whirlwind of death that was steadily approaching down the hall outside. Then there was silence, broken only by their breathing and the almost-audible thundering of their heartbeats.

The door crashed open, ripped off its hinges by the force of the blow. Tseng began firing madly, pouring bullets into the intruder, but they did no good. The next thing he knew, the breath was knocked out of him and he was being lifted off the ground by a superhuman strength, lifted to the same height as glittering slit-pupilled eyes.

"The Cetra. Where is she?" a cold voice asked, even as the hand around his throat gripped tighter. Tseng struggled weakly, his mind denying the reality of this. _Sephiroth!_ _Not possible! _He'd been to Nibelheim, he'd been part of the retrieval team sent to find the general's remains...nothing had been found. How was this happening? Nevertheless, the famous - now infamous - Silver General was standing before him, relentlessly choking the life out of his victim.

"Turk, the Cetra," Sephiroth demanded again, silk over steel. Tseng gasped for air but shook his head.

A smaller figure darted past at the edge of his vision, but he couldn't turn his head to see. "Master, here she is," an unknown voice said, a smirk evident in the tone.

There was the sound of a scuffle, a muffled outcry from Aerith, then she was pushed forward. Sephiroth dropped Tseng and turned to rake his gaze over the flower girl, his lips twisting into an unpleasant parody of a smile. "Well done, puppet. I'll take her from here. You can finish your work in the Tower."

Without a word, the unidentified man hurried out the door eagerly. Tseng got a fleeting glimpse of pale gold hair and a bloody SOLDIER-issue sword strapped to his back before he was gone. Sephiroth advanced on Aerith; she backed away from him until she hit the desk and couldn't go any farther. Almost tenderly, he reached out a hand to her face, but she leaned away from him, bending backward over the desk to escape. The moment passed, and the general snatched his hand away with something akin to a snarl, Masamune appearing in his left hand.

Fearing for Aerith's life, Tseng launched himself at the man's throat, a small knife in his hand. He knew he didn't stand a chance against a former SOLDIER, but he had to try. The last thing he heard was Aerith's scream as the seven-foot katana whipped up faster than the eye could follow, and the last thing he felt was a searing agony as the blade was thrust through his chest.

* * *

As Tseng finished speaking, Zack stood up from where he'd been sitting and restlessly paced the room. "Sephiroth, huh. I can't help but think that if we understood how he came back, that would solve a lot of this."

"Maybe so," the Turk replied, likewise standing, "but the more pressing question now is: what does he want with the Cetra?"

"Her name's Aerith," Zack corrected, but not with rancor.

Tseng continued, "And also, where's he taking her? Getting her back is our first priority."

"'Our' priority. You think we're going to work together?"

Dark eyes regarded him thoughtfully. "It would be in both our best interests. Separately, I don't think either of us stand a chance against Sephiroth. Together we could take him down..."

"And fight over Aerith later?"

"She's all yours. She always has been. I was a fool not to see that; I was a fool to force her to love me." He wanted to say more, wanted to apologize, but his pride choked him.

"I see." Zack turned away, looking out the door at the blood-smeared hallway. "She didn't believe you when you told her I'd changed?"

"No."

The young man faced him again. "Then it's okay with me. No harm done. You ready to go?"

Tseng spun his revolver around his finger, then replaced it inside his jacket. "If you are."

As they left the building, Tseng swallowed some of his pride in favor of patching his mending friendship with the SOLDIER. "I don't believe I expressed my gratitude for you healing me. Thank you for saving my life. Even if I didn't deserve it."

"I would have done it for anyone," Zack answered, and the Turk realized that that was true. The boy didn't know how to hold a grudge. He turned and looked at Tseng, grinning, for the first time with something akin to his old high spirits in his eyes. "But I'm glad you said that. I was beginning to wonder if you were really human, too."


End file.
